


The Easy Part's Over Now

by romanticalgirl



Series: Saving Grace [1]
Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 10:46:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And the hard part begins</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Easy Part's Over Now

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to inlovewithnight and alethialia and hackthis and shoshannagold for beta and general all-around awesome. 
> 
> Originally posted 7-8-09

Brad’s mom is many things – a worrier, a busybody, prone to surprises when Brad least expects or desires them – but she’s definitely not an alarmist. So when Brad gets the message on his phone that he needs to get home now, he doesn’t waste time explaining anything to anyone. He breaks the speed limit most of the way there, trying to shut down his mind as it tries to bring up possibilities. There are too many variables and he doesn’t have enough intel, so he doesn’t let himself get lost in ‘what if’s, as tempting as they are. He just keeps breathing the hot California air as it rushes at him, reassuring himself that everything’s okay. 

It’s the first time in his life he’s ever even really thought about just dumping the bike and rushing inside, but he doesn’t. He parks it and gets off, looking at the house for clues. Nate’s car pulls up behind him and Brad lets out a breath he wasn’t aware he’d been holding. “Hey.” He stows his helmet on the bike as Nate climbs out of the car, his eyes looking Brad over intently, his gray suit rumpled. “My mom call you, too?”

“Yeah. She wouldn’t explain anything. Just said it was important. I was a little worried you’d done something stupid.”

“I resent that, Fick.” Brad falls in step with Nate as he heads toward the front door, falling behind just enough that he has a reason to touch the small of Nate’s back and guide him in the door. Nate smiles at him over his shoulder, stopping just inside. Brad stumbles into Nate, blinking to adjust his eyes. “What the fuck is that?”

His mother looks up at him and smiles a smile that Brad’s seen five times in his life – when she found out what he did when the secretary left him alone in the elementary school office when he was in kindergarten, when he blew up the science department, when she sent him off to military school, when he told her that he fell firmly in the ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ camp, and now. “Watch your language, Bradley.”

“That’s a kid.”

“Yes.” His mom nods calmly, bouncing the thing on her knee. Brad knows nothing about kids, but the ribbon pinned in the wisps of hair makes him suspect it’s a girl, though he’s not sure why she’s here or how she got here. “More specifically, Bradley, she’s your kid.”

Nate’s silent and Brad’s behind him, so he can’t actually see his expression, which he thinks might be a good thing. “I don’t have a kid.”

“Actually, you do. Do you remember Julia Griffin?”

“No.” Brad’s hands rest on Nate’s hips, grounding himself against him, holding on to something that makes sense.

“She lived next door. When you came home from Iraq. Right before you went to England.”

Heat fuses Brad to the floor and he feels Nate stiffen in his grip. That hadn’t been their best time – Nate going to Harvard, Brad going to England, both of them trying to do the “right thing”, whatever the fuck that was. It hadn’t been being together. It hadn’t been being apart. It had just been being and not looking forward or back. “Ah. Right. Vaguely.”

“I’m so glad she made an impression.” His mom gets to her feet and Brad remembers why he is the way he is. “You apparently made a much stronger one on her.”

“That’s…No.” Brad shakes his head and steps out from behind Nate, aware that he’s hiding and that Nate doesn’t deserve that. “No.”

“This is Grace, Brad.”

“I don’t have a kid, Mom. You remember the thing where I sleep with guys?” 

His mom’s eyes flash and Brad feels his cheeks darken. Fuck, put him back in this house and he’s eight-years-old again. “I’m well aware of your preference in partners, dear.” She holds the little girl’s hand and guides her through the several shaky steps she needs to get to Brad. “I’m also aware that you aren’t always so selective. Especially when you’re upset and drunk and your significant other-” Here she throws a sharp look at Nate, “Has just told you that he thinks you’d be better off not trying to sustain a long-distance relationship.”

“Wait. Wait. Julia lives next door. If I’d gotten her pregnant, you’d have known. You’d…how…” Brad clears his throat. “I need a drink.”

“I’ll get them.” Nate veers off into the kitchen, and Brad can’t see his face at all, though he recognizes the body language far better than he wants to. The kid is looking up at Brad, her eyes blue and wide, her blonde hair flying haphazardly around her head. She’s dressed in a dirty green sweatshirt and a pair of worn jeans. 

“Julia left town.” His mother’s voice has softened, but it doesn’t change the fact that she’s sticking to the same story. “Had the baby. Was living with a boyfriend somewhere up near Seattle.”

“See. A boyfriend.” Brad gives his mom a look he knows must be desperate. It feels desperate. “It’s got to be the boyfriend’s.”

“Julia took off. He brought the baby back and offered to get a paternity test. He said Julia always said the baby’s dad was some guy named Brad.”

“There are a lot of guys named Brad, Mom.” He refuses to squat down, even as the kid grabs at his leg, holding onto his jeans. “Probably a few that slept with Julia.”

“Three years ago?”

“Yeah. I mean…” He looks down at the little girl and then at his mom. “I can’t have a kid. I’m a Marine, Mom.”

“Marines have kids.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Whatever you mean, Brad, it’s not this little girl’s fault.”

“That doesn’t make her my responsibility, Mom.”

“Well, according to Julia’s parents and her birth certificate, it does.” His mom picks the kid up so she’s nearly eye-level with Brad. “Say hello to Grace Colbert, Bradley.”

Brad looks at the little girl. Her face is dirty and she’s too thin, but all he’s really conscious of is the fact that Nate hasn’t come back with the drinks yet and the fact that this is not a conversation he ever planned to have with his mother. “I’m careful, Mom.”

“Look at her, Brad.”

He tries very hard not to do that. “I need to talk to Nate.”

His mom sighs and takes a step back. Brad’s gaze follows Grace, then he deliberately looks away and heads to the kitchen. Nate’s not there, but Brad spies him on the back deck, so he follows him outside. Nate’s standing by the railing, so Brad leans against the side of the house, hands behind his back.

“I didn’t know. I still don’t know.” He knows that’s not the point, but it bears repeating. “I told you about Julia.”

“I know.” Nate’s hands are in his pockets, ruining the line of his suit.

“I would have mentioned a kid, Nate.”

Nate turns and looks at Brad evenly, his normally expressive eyes carefully blank. “I know, Brad.”

“Okay.” Brad pushes off the wall and straightens as Nate turns back around. Brad’s head tells him to go inside, but he does his best not to listen to his head when he’s on leave, especially when it comes to Nate. He closes the distance between them and wraps his arms around Nate’s waist, resting his forehead against the back of Nate’s head. 

Nate inhales deeply and then lets the breath out slowly. “I kind of thought the whole sleeping with guys thing was going to preclude having kids.”

“Yeah. Join the crowd.” Brad closes his eyes as Nate relaxes back against him. “I’m sorry Mom sprung this on you too.”

“We’re together, aren’t we?” Nate turns in the circle of Brad’s arms so he’s looking at Brad.

“Well…yeah.” They don’t talk about this, both of them knowing words lie, actions are their truth. They had something like a goodbye after Nate’s paddle party and then they’d left it alone. They’d been friends until Brad had come back from England and Iraq again and all he wanted was to see Nate, to settle the ache that had been burning inside him. They hadn’t talked about the future, they’d simply started spending all their free time together, coordinating their schedules.

“Well, I imagine that’s why.” Nate takes his hands out of his pockets and rests them on top of Brad’s. “So, you are aware that condoms work with girls, too, right?”

Brad almost smiles, pressing the slight smirk against Nate’s neck. “Hey, considering how many girls I’ve slept with, if I’ve only got one kid, I think my average is pretty good.”

“You’re a horrible homosexual.” Nate laughs softly, closing his eyes as Brad’s teeth graze his neck. His body relaxes more even though Brad can feel the underlying tension. 

“Hmm.” The noise reverberates against Nate’s skin. “Not the impression you gave me last night.”

Nate huffs a husky laugh. “I’m relatively certain that turning me on while on your parents’ back porch is a bad idea, even when there aren’t other issues to deal with.”

“Right.” Brad drops his head to Nate’s shoulder and breathes for a few moments. “You realize that’s a girl, right?”

“Mmm. Yeah.” Nate leans his head against Brad’s. “The first girl.”

“Unless your sister’s one on the way plans on changing in utero, the first girl on both sides.” Brad curses softly and eloquently under his breath. “What the fuck do I do with a kid, Nate? I’m a Marine. I’m active duty. I get sent into some of the most dangerous places and situations in the world.”

Nate’s voice is softer than a whisper, and it guts Brad worse than a K-bar. “Is she yours?”

Brad nods only once. “Yeah. I think so.”

Nate turns his head a little more and kisses Brad’s temple. “Then we’ll figure it out.”

**

Brad stands over the bed, his brow furrowed. The kid - Grace, a voice in his head that sounds far too much like his mother’s exasperated one snaps – is cleaned up and asleep. His mom had taken the sweatshirt off of her and with just a t-shirt and jeans on, she looks half her original size. 

“She’s malnourished,” he hears his mom saying to Nate. “Underweight. She doesn’t talk that they know of. There are some bruises, but no broken bones that they saw on the X-rays, so they could just be childhood bruises.”

“Did he say how long he’d had her?”

“No. He just dumped her on their doorstep, said a few choice words about Julia and left.” 

Brad squats down, his face closer to the ki…Grace’s. He can see himself in her, whatever that means. He doesn’t subscribe to the usual idea of what family is. He was adopted and never gave a shit about his birth parents because he had all the family he needed. He forged a family with his men in combat situations, and now, he has Nate. This…person…is the first thing in his life that’s part of him, that could claim a right to any kind of binding ownership.

“And Julia’s parents?” Nate’s voice is soft.

“Well, they’re a little concerned for Julia right now. They had no idea she was pregnant or anything else.” Brad’s mother’s scorn is pretty easy to hear, and Brad almost feels sorry for Julia’s parents when they come knocking on the door again. “I imagine after they find her and straighten everything out there, they’ll focus on Grace.”

Brad shifts a little closer, inspecting her. His job is figuring things out, and he has a talent that goes beyond just training and practice. He understands machines and orders and how to make people do what he wants, but people themselves are like little mysteries he can’t quite fathom. 

“Grace.” Brad says her name softly, and it suits her in a way. She’s delicate and frail, old-fashioned despite her Dora the Explorer t-shirt. She makes a soft noise and then opens her eyes, wide and blue and blinking with nearly invisible blonde eyelashes. Brad shifts his position slightly and meets her gaze head on. “Hey.”

She doesn’t react at all for a long time and then she closes her eyes again. He watches her lashes fall on her cheeks, fluttering there the same way Nate’s do when he’s dreaming. He realizes his mother and Nate have gone silent, which probably means they’re staring at him like he’s grown another head or, more accurately, suddenly found out he has a kid. He straightens up and looks at his mother. 

“She’ll have to stay here tonight.”

“Excuse me?”

Nate purses his lips together and Brad ignores him. “I’ve just got the bike and Nate doesn’t have a car seat. Neither do you for that matter. So she’ll have to stay here tonight. I’ll pick some stuff up tomorrow morning and come and get her.”

“Perhaps you’ve forgotten a few things, Bradley.”

He looks away from the hint of Nate’s smile to his mother’s eyes. “Just because we’re all grown doesn’t mean you don’t know how to handle kids. Besides you have grandkids, and I know you know how to deal with them.”

“I meant perhaps you could ask instead of order me around like one of your Marines.”

“Oh.” Brad glances down at Grace. “Would you watch her?”

“She’s my granddaughter, Brad. Of course I will.”

Something in her voice catches and Brad looks at her, sees it on her face before she can hide it. As much as she’s supported him, as much as she’s been there for him, when it all comes down to it there are a couple of things she can’t quite deny. Brad isn’t her son. This isn’t her granddaughter. And Brad’s decision to be with Nate means that this is the only not-quite-grandchild Brad will be giving her.

“I’m sorry, Mom.” His chest aches, and he can’t help but think about the boy Trombley shot in Iraq, about the little girl Doc spent two hours working on even though they all knew it wasn’t going to save her life. He clears his throat as her eyes jerk back to his face and he hides it better than she does. “Imagine you didn’t expect your Wednesday to go like this.”

“No.” She shakes her head. Brad comes by his attitude and self-defense mechanisms honestly. “This really is more of a Thursday thing.” Stepping back out of the doorway, she gives Nate a thin smile. “I’ll make up a list of things you’ll need. Excuse me.”

Brad’s head falls back and he sighs heavily. “Fuck.”

“I’ll wait here for the list,” Nate says. “Why don’t you take the long way home and get some air? Clear your head.”

Brad tilts his head and looks at Nate, his smile feeling as fragile as Grace seems in the middle of the queen sized bed. “No amount of fresh air is going to fix this.”

“No,” Nate agrees softly and glances toward the kitchen where Brad’s mom disappeared. “But I think leaving might keep it from getting any worse.”

**

The hood of Nate’s car is cool by the time Brad parks the bike beside it, which is indication enough of how long he’s been out on the road. The fact that his face feels numb is secondary but to be expected, given that he doesn’t think he’s really felt anything since he walked into his parents’ house that afternoon.

Brad lets himself in and locks the door behind him. He shrugs out of his jacket and tosses it over the hook on the wall and takes a deep breath. He’s ridden into certain death in a fucking sardine can with no batteries and no gun lube. He can face this. He shoves his hands into his jean pockets and walks into the living room, watching Nate for a second from the doorway.

He’s golden in the light from the lamp, his legs stretched out in front of him and his bare feet on the ottoman. He’s got his glasses on, which means he’s working or at least trying, and whatever he’s drinking looks strong and dangerous even from across the room. “Hi, honey. I’m home.”

“Oh, Lucy.” Nate’s accent is horrible, but his smile makes up for it. “What crazy thing did you get up to today?”

“Oh, Ricky.” Brad walks across the small room and sinks down next to Nate’s chair, leaning in to kiss him. It’s hot and hard and more than a little bit desperate. Nate tastes like good scotch and Brad growls, moving up over the arm of the chair and climbing into Nate’s lap. The teasing is gone and Nate’s kissing him back, just as hungry, his hands clawing at Brad’s clothes. It’s like the night at Al Kut, riding high on adrenaline and fear and the bitter aftertaste of death, not caring about MOPP suits or protocol or anything but touching, feeling. “Nate. Fuck.”

Nate doesn’t answer in words. Instead he straightens up and pushes Brad back, angling him off the chair and onto the floor. He follows him down, pinning Brad to the ground and kissing him, his lips and teeth and tongue mounting an attack on Brad’s mouth, ravaging it. He fucks Brad’s mouth with an intense viciousness that makes Brad groan, hands fisting in Nate’s hair, tugging at the long strands until Nate’s making pained noises against his mouth but not pulling away.

They break the kiss, both of them gasping for air. Brad takes advantage of the distance to reach down and tug at Nate’s shirt, pushing it up his stomach. Nate pulls away enough to jerk it over his head and Brad levers himself off the floor, getting Nate beneath him. He finds Nate’s neck and shoulder. Kissing him isn’t enough, so he sucks and bites at the smooth skin, needing to taste him, devour him. Nate’s lost the golden glow from the lamp and from the lifetime ago they spent in Iraq, so his skin is pale, flushing with every touch of Brad’s mouth.

Nate pulls Brad’s shirt over his head, separating them long enough to get rid of it. Brad moves right back in, lower now, finding the hard nub of Nate’s nipple and capturing it with his teeth. Nate groans, arching up off the floor, and Brad uses his tongue, flicking the pebbled skin until Nate’s body is barely on the carpet, bowing upward to Brad’s mouth. “Nate.” Brad groans his name, sliding his hands beneath Nate’s back and holding him against his lips, tasting him. “God, Nate. I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry.” 

Nate pushes Brad away and shakes his head with a quick jerk, pushing Brad against the side of the chair. He straddles his lap and kisses him, fingers digging into Brad’s scalp to hold him still. Brad’s hands splay across Nate’s back and stroke upward, curving along bone and muscle as Nate plunders his mouth, tasting every surface, his tongue dueling with Brad’s. It’s sharp, their rhythm off, lost in some mix of pleasure and pain until Brad aches everywhere. He slides his hands down to Nate’s ass and pulls him closer, both of them groaning at the pressure as Nate’s cock grinds against his through their clothes, through the denim and the wool of Nate's suit. Brad’s hips rock upward on their own accord and once Nate responds, Brad can’t stop, arms wrapping tighter around Nate so he can’t move away. They move together desperately, Brad’s cock jutting up, sliding along Nate’s with every upward stroke. 

Nate drops his head to Brad’s neck, burrowing at the juncture of his throat and shoulder, his breath hot on Brad’s skin. Their bodies keep moving, given over completely as Nate’s knees dig into Brad’s thighs, Brad’s fingers no doubt leaving an arc of bruises on Nate’s ass. Brad slams his head back against the arm of the chair and cries out, his body going stiff as his orgasm sparks through him. Nate moans and bites at Brad’s neck, teeth biting into the flesh as he presses closer, coming with the same level of shaking intensity.

Brad swallows hard, trying to catch his breath and failing. He sucks in as much air as he can, rasping and gasping until his head stops spinning. The arm of the chair holds his head at an awkward angle, exacerbated by Nate’s head tucked against his neck, but he doesn’t move, isn’t sure he can. He manages to get a hand up to the back of Nate’s head and strokes his hair before curving his palm against Nate’s nape. His voice barely breaks a whisper. “I’m sorry, Nate.”

“Shh.” Nate moves back just enough to kiss him, this one different than before. This one is softer, calmer and Brad meets Nate’s gaze. “Let’s go to bed.”

**

“Does fucking Mattel own the rights to every fucking piece of clothing a little girl wears?” Brad snarls at yet another pink…thing. Nate and his sister keep assuring him that everything has a proper name, but to Brad it’s all a sea of pink. Pink with ruffles. Pink with stripes. Pink with polka dots. Pink with stars. Pink with fucking feathers. Even worse is that Brad’s pretty sure that even someone Grace’s size would look underdressed in most of it, like a hooker walking the streets of Candy Land looking for a good time. “It’s like fucking Barbie puked in here.”

“Brad,” Nate bites his lip to keep from laughing, and it serves to distract Brad from his rant, given that Nate’s lips are still swollen. Brad sucks his own bottom lip into his mouth, pushing his tongue against the cut from Nate’s teeth. “They call it ‘Kids R Us’ because there are kids here.”

His sister, Kate, smacks him with a handful of clothes. “People are staring.”

“People aren’t staring. They’re blinded by all the pink.” He glances down at the pile she picked out. “No. No. No. No fucking way. No.”

“Brad.”

“Kate.”

“You’re impossible.”

“I refuse to have the kid dressed like a doll or a whore. How is that being impossible? I mean, beyond the fact that these clothes make it that way?” He glances over and sees a woman looking at him and his eyes narrow slightly. “Ma’am. Would you dress a two year old in this?” He holds up what Kate assures him is a complete outfit, though as far as he can tell it’s three scraps of fabric held together with sequins and a picture of some floppy-haired, pretty-boy faggot she tells him is Zac Efron. “And expect the child to grow up with any kind of self-esteem at all?”

The woman snaps her mouth shut and moves out of the clothing area quickly. Brad tosses the clothes back at Kate. 

“No.”

“She’s a girl, Brad. I know you don’t have a lot of experience with them…”

“Since growing up with my two sisters completely turned me off of them.”

Nate sets two pairs of small jeans in Brad’s hands. “Here.”

Brad unfolds them and looks at them dubiously. “They make these this small?”

“They do.”

“Huh.” Brad turns them around and then back again. “And no pink. Nate, I could kiss you.”

“Yeah, and if you’d stuck to that, you wouldn’t be in this situation,” Kate grumbles under her breath as she heads back into the bowels of the girls’ clothing section. Brad manages a tight smile and tosses the jeans in the nearly overflowing cart. “Girls like pink, Brad!”

“Ignore her.” Brad rubs his forehead and looks over the list. “Why do kids need everything smaller? Spoons. Chairs. Forks. Plates. Cups. It’s some sort of evil enterprise.” 

“Well, if that’s the case, when you’re asked to invade, maybe you can bring Grace along.” Nate’s smiling, but Brad knows things are still off between them. Worse, probably, after the sex, even though he’d hoped it might fix something, remind them that they work together, they go together. “What are you going to do about a car?”

Brad watches as Kate throws clothes into the cart, daring him with a look to say a word. Resigning himself to some pink, he looks at Nate instead of challenging her. “I’ll have to get one, I guess. And I’ll need to buy food. Do they have a kid section in the supermarkets?” He glances back as Kate comes up again. “No. Put that one back.”

“I’m buying it for her. I’m her aunt; I get to do that.”

“I will burn it like the pagan sacrifice it obviously is.” He holds her gaze, both of them challenging each other. “Katherine.”

“Bradley.” She takes a step closer and deliberately puts the pink and white ruffled…thing on his cart. “All the children in this family are boys. This is my only opportunity to buy something pink and frilly and cute, and you are not taking it away from me. I will buy this dress, and I will put your daughter in it and I will make her frolic. I will make her look like a princess and if you so much as raise a finger to try to stop me, I will tell Mom about what really happened that day at the park.”

“One.” He bites out the word. “One dress. That’s it.”

“As pink and as frilly as I want.”

“Fine.” He curls his hands tight around the handle of the cart as Kate smiles, moving off toward the diapers. “Why did we invite her?”

“Feminine perspective.”

“Evil. She’s pure evil.” Brad glances at Nate. “You don’t have to work today?”

“I do. Later.” He smiles up at Brad, and Brad smiles back, watching Nate’s eyes, trying to read him. He doesn’t like Nate hiding from him, even worse here in plain sight. “You’ll have to manage your first dinner by yourself.”

“Nate.” Brad reaches over, brushes the back of his fingers over Nate’s hand. Nate doesn’t pull away, doesn’t react at all. Brad drops his voice. “Are we okay?”

Kate piles a box of diapers and another box of baby wipes on the cart. “Okay. That’s everything on the list. Now, let’s go. I have to pick Zach up from school.”

“You can go on ahead, Kate.”

“Yeah, like I’d trust you guys to put in a car seat.”

“We’re Marines. Highly trained Marines, Kate.”

“Yeah, but you’re also boys and idiots. So I’ll put the car seat in so that Grace doesn’t end up sliding across the back seat when you decide to take a corner like you’re on your bike.” She pushes the cart, turning it toward the cashiers. “Besides, if I leave you alone, you’ll dump out half this stuff as unnecessary and Mom will kill me. And you, but mostly me. So. Let’s go spend your combat bonus, shall we?”

“Obviously I’ve pissed off some higher power.” Brad follows Kate. “Possibly even higher than Mattis. My mother, maybe. My grandmother. Fuck, when Ruth hears about this, I’m never going to hear the end of it.”

“Your grandmother will be thrilled to have a little girl to frighten.” Nate stops at a display and grabs something off of it, jogging a few steps to catch up with Brad. “And eventually Grace will wrinkle her nose and run in fear at the scent of peonies like the rest of us do.” He holds up a small fuzzy dog and points it at Brad. “What do you think?”

“I think she’ll love it.” Brad swallows against the tightness in his throat. “Nate…”

He shakes his head and sets the dog in the basket. “Don’t worry. We’re okay.”

“Nate.”

Nate looks over at him and smiles something sad that makes Brad’s chest hurt. “We will be.”

**

Brad looks dubiously at the car in his mother’s driveway. It’s as generic and homely as a car can possibly be, and he’s relatively certain if he tries to fold himself inside it, he’s going to permanently damage something important. “I can’t drive this, Mom.”

“What’s wrong with it, honey?”

“Did you look at it? I mean, I know that you don’t see me all that often, but I’ve been well over six foot since I was fifteen. That car isn’t even six feet long.”

“It’s number one in safety for all the crash test ratings.” She frowns as she watches Grace move from flower to flower in the front yard, leaning in and pressing her face against the petals and leaves. “Grace, honey. Be careful.”

“How about I promise not to get into a crash and we find me a car I can actually fit into without folding myself in two?”

“You’re being deliberately difficult.”

“I am not.”

“You are. You always do this. You don’t get your way, so you get all petulant. You’re like a child.” His mom smiles at him. “You and Grace should get along famously.”

“You’re not funny.” He glances over at Grace. She’s sitting on the ground in front of his mother’s daisies, plucking petals one after the other. “You know I have no idea what to do with a child.”

“But you now possess every toy that was rated for a two-year-old, so you should be fine. I hope someone warned you that nowadays all those toys make some sort of noise, and your sisters will both be paying you back in spades for the drum sets.” 

Brad leans against the car and glances in the back seat where the car seat is securely locked in. There are bags in the trunk and more in the passenger seat filled with toys and clothes and diapers. He glances over at Grace again and sighs. “What am I going to do, Mom?”

“What a ridiculous question.” She looks at him, humor replaced with seriousness. “You’re going to be a good father.”

“And how do I do that?”

“You take care of her. You teach her right from wrong. You help her. You hold her hand when she needs you to and you let go when you think you can’t. You explain the difference between fantasy and reality, you tell her how quantum physics applies to deep sea diving. You teach her what you know and give her everything you have. You love her.”

“I don’t even know her.”

“I didn’t know you when we picked you up from the hospital.” She ducks her head so that she’s looking directly into his eyes. “I loved you.”

“You wanted me. You went looking for me.” He shakes his head. “I didn’t want this. I don’t want this. I want…hell, Mom, I have enough problems trying to live the parts of my life that I lie about and you want me to raise a kid? With that? You want me to…”

“I don’t want you to do anything, Bradley, except face up to the fact that, whether or not you planned this, you are a father.” Her voice breaks and she blinks rapidly, her lashes spiking with tears. “You are her father, and you’re going to have to accept that. Deal with it. All I’ve heard since you graduated was that you’re a Marine. Well be a Marine then.” She turns on her heel and heads for the house. “Make do.”

**

Grace sits on the floor and stares at him. She’s been doing it since he fed her a dinner of grilled chicken breasts and peas, blinking her big, wide eyes like something out of a Disney cartoon, and refusing to look away from him. The house is quiet without music or the television, and even his laptop is silent. In fact, the only sound in the apartment is the quiet filter of his fish tank, their breathing and the soft movement of the clock.

“Okay.”

She jumps at the sound of his voice and huddles in on herself. Brad frowns and shifts forward in his seat, freezing when she withdraws further. Great. Just fucking great. It’s two in the morning, he has a kid who’s petrified of him and Ray hung up on him when he tried to call and explain he wouldn’t be at the cookout at Wynn’s house the next day. Not to mention the fact that he’s been hoping Nate would come over after work and, as of yet, that hasn’t happened.

“I’m kind of thinking I need a new religion, you know that? Get some Christianity in my life just so I can have more than one person to curse at.” He exhales. “I bought you some pajamas. And it’s late. Well, early. So we should get you changed into them. Somehow.” He’s done this before, so there shouldn’t be this sheer terror clawing at his stomach. He’s babysat Poke’s kids plenty of times – feeding, bathing, dressing, bandaging, soothing, rocking, burping. He’s done it all with no real thought to the process, so this shouldn’t be any different. “They’re purple. The pajamas. Do you like purple?”

Grace regards him with those eyes and then blinks slowly, drifting toward sleep. Brad stands up slowly, carefully, and moves over to her, picking her up and easing her against his shoulder. He hasn’t held her until now, has only picked her up to load her into and out of the car or her booster seat at the table. She settles against him, whatever fear he’d startled into her eased now. She wraps her arms around his neck and he fits her on his hip, leading her into the second bedroom. Up until that afternoon, this was his computer room, but now it’s a computer room with a toddler bed shoved up against one wall. 

She smells like powder and lotion and her breath fans against his jaw, a soft snore surprising a smile out of him. “Okay. No pajamas tonight. But don’t get used to it. We’re going to have rules in this house. Regulations.” He lays her carefully on the bed, covering her up with a pale green sheet and a brown and pink quilt. A soft, shaky breath falls past her lips and Brad watches her settle in before glancing at the clock and sighing, knowing he needs to stop watching the clock, knowing it won’t make Nate show up on his doorstep, knowing he needs his head in the here and now, not in the what was a few days ago. “You’re kind of fucking up my life, Grace. What am I supposed to do with you?”

She lets out another breath and rolls over, facing the wall. She’s still curled in on herself and Brad leans against the doorframe, watching, waiting for her to relax. It never happens and he finally gives up, dragging himself to bed. He’s trained to sleep whenever there’s a free moment to do so, but he can’t quite manage it tonight.

His alarm goes off at its usual early time and he groans, reaching to shut it off and encountering a bed full of Nate. Somehow, he not only managed to fall asleep, but he did it on Nate’s side of the bed, so he has to angle over him to shut off the sound. Nate grumbles, but slides a hand along Brad’s hip, so after he gets the alarm turned off, Brad stays where he is, pressing his mouth to a convenient spot on Nate’s skin. “Time you get in?”

“Shh. Sleeping.” Nate tugs Brad up for a kiss and then pushes him back on the bed, moving over to lay on Brad’s chest. Brad wraps his arms around him and holds him, closing his eyes and breathing the warm scent of Nate. “C’n watch her ‘f you want to go surf.”

Brad shakes his head and tightens his arms. “Here’s good.” He smiles as Nate slips a knee between both of Brad’s legs, effectively laying on top of him. He kisses the top of Nate’s head and matches their breathing, one hand sliding slowly up and down Nate’s back. Nate makes a soft sound and moves closer still. Brad’s pretty sure he’s still smiling when he falls asleep.

**

Waking up the second time is much better than the first. Nate is still sprawled on top of him, his lips parted slightly, which causes Brad’s dick to twitch. He’s considering dragging Nate’s mouth up to his and kissing him senseless before sliding down and doing other things when he turns his head and finds himself face to face with Grace. 

“Holy sh…” Brad takes a breath and wonders how she managed to get there without him hearing her. He clears his throat. “Morning.” He looks her over. She’s dressed in her clothes still, but her pants and the lower half of her shirt are soaked. “Okay. Diaper change before bed next time. Good to know. Let’s go clean you up.”

He eases out from under Nate despite Nate’s grumblings and takes Grace by the hand. She follows along docilely, blinking at him with those damned eyes. Her bed is a mess as well and he strips the sheets off of it and tosses them in a pile by the door. 

“Okay. Bathroom. Right.” He takes her hand again and leads her into the bathroom, kneeling down in front of her to take her clothes off. Whatever bruises his mother noticed have faded now to just the dull hint of greenish-yellow. He tosses her wet clothes in the corner and strips her diaper off of her. “I’ve worn these. Trust me. I know how uncomfortable you are. Try wearing one in a MOPP suit. Hot, sweaty, covered in piss and shit. Not fun. It’s even worse when you’ve got hair down there, trust me. Not that you need to think about that. Fuck. What the hell do two-year-olds talk about?” He guides her to the bathtub and has her stand there while he fills it with warm water. “You like baths?”

She doesn’t say anything, but she does look down into the water, reaching to touch it, imitating Brad as he keeps his fingers under the spraying faucet. She smiles a little and slaps her hand against the water, jerking back as it splashes back at her. Brad turns off the water and then lifts her, settling her on the floor of the tub. 

“Okay. I don’t have any toys for the bathtub. Apparently Mom left something off the list.” He reaches for his soap and then stops. “And you probably don’t want to smell like this. Okay. Um…” He grabs the bottle of baby shampoo and pours a little into his hands, rubbing them together for bubbles before he starts washing her cool skin. “No more tears, so please don’t cry. I have no idea what to do with crying once you’re past the need for a bottle.” Her skin is soft and he adjusts his touch to suit it. “So, Grace. Did you sleep well?”

More blinking and Brad blows out a breath. Grace pulls away from his touch and lays down on her back in the tub, surrounded by soap bubbles. She lifts her hands up and then slams them down on the surface of the water, laughing as it splashes up again, soaking her face and Brad. 

“Loves the water. Good to know.” Brad grabs a towel and dries off his face. “Swimming lessons then surfing lessons, huh?”

She keeps splashing and he moves up onto the commode to watch her. The bathroom’s going to be a mess of water and baby shampoo, but she’s happy and laughing and it’s pretty much the first sound he’s heard her make. He rubs his face, wincing at the rough stubble there. He needs a shower and a shave and a very stiff drink while he figures out what he’s going to do. He’s got another month at Pendleton and then he’s supposed to ship out again, and that means he’s got less than a month to fix this.

He realizes the sound has stopped and he looks over at Grace again. She’s sitting up in the tub looking at him. She looks completely bedraggled and he sinks back down beside the tub. “Okay, what do you say we use this shampoo the way nature intended?” She’s completely obedient through the entire operation, even when he guides her head back to the faucet and lets the water fall down over her hair. A bit of it gets down into her eyes, but she just blinks it away. 

He leaves her standing beside the tub shivering while he goes through his towels, looking for one that seems soft enough for her. He finally picks one and wraps it around her, drying her off quickly. Her hair is thin and white-blonde and it flies everywhere around her face. 

“Don’t worry. I’m not going to suggest a buzz cut.” He smiles at her and finishes drying her off. Wrapping the towel around her again, he picks her up and carries her into her room. Her clothes and diapers are stacked against the wall until he can find a dresser, so he grabs a diaper and looks at her and frowns. “Okay. Um. Lay down?”

She sits on the floor, and he figures that’s a start. He also figures he’s going to have to find a way to communicate with her that doesn’t sound like he’s giving orders to a dog. Or a grunt. 

He guides her onto her back and opens up the diaper, managing to get it on her without too much fuss. After that it’s jeans and a t-shirt and, because he couldn’t manage to avoid it, a pair of socks with ruffles at the ankle. “Yeah. I’m sorry about your aunt Kate. She’s kind of evil.” He looks her over and smiles, finger combing her hair. “So, um…I’m Brad. Your father, apparently. If and when you decide to talk, you can call me…Dad, I guess. Or Brad. And you met your grandma. And Kate. You met Aunt Kate. And there’s Nate. He was there that first day. I have another sister and she and Kate both have boys. You’ll meet them. I fully expect you to be able to kick their asses in a couple of weeks. And tomorrow there’s a cookout. So you’ll meet…” He groans and looks her in the eye. “You’ll meet everybody else that matters, other than Nate’s family. But don’t worry. There won’t be a quiz. You want to watch TV?”

She nods and Brad sighs with relief. He guides her out to the living room and turns on the set, flipping through channels to try to find something educational or at least cartoonish. The only animated stuff he owns runs more toward ‘Fritz the Cat’ and ‘Heavy Metal’ so he’s not quite equipped for the Sesame Street set. He finds the familiar flash of blue that is Grover and stops, about to settle her in with that when Elmo comes on the screen. 

“No. Sorry. Can’t do it, kid.” He flips a few more channels until he finds The Discovery Channel and settles her in with something about bugs. Kids like bugs, he’s pretty sure. “You like Cheerios?” He doesn’t wait for her answer, just goes to the kitchen and pours her a bowl and brings it back, setting it in the chair next to her. “I’m going to go shower. If you need anything, knock. Or…” Nate’s in the bedroom, but getting woken up by someone other than Brad probably isn’t on his to-do list. Of course, given that Grace is awake, Brad won’t be waking Nate up in his traditional manner anyway. “Knock. On the bathroom door.”

He showers, keeping an ear out for any screams of pain. Of course, given her silence so far, he’s not sure she would scream if she were in pain. He tugs on his boxer-briefs as soon as he’s dried off, opening the door to vent the steam as well as to give him a better chance of hearing her. He shaves carefully then wipes the extra cream off his face, peeking in on Grace from the hallway.

She’s sitting on her knees right in front of the TV, her cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk, and she’s shoving more Cheerios in, but she doesn’t seem to be in danger of choking, so he heads to the bedroom and tugs on a pair of olive green shorts and a USMC t-shirt. Nate’s sprawled face-down on the bed, the sheet at his hips granting Brad an unobstructed view of the planes and muscles of Nate’s back. There are faint red streaks from Brad’s nails the other night since Nate’s fair skin shows every mark. “Come back to bed.”

“Grace is watching TV.”

“All the more reason to come back to bed.” Nate turns over and grins at him, pulling himself into a sitting position. Brad’s eyes graze down Nate’s chest to his groin, groaning softly at Nate’s obvious erection. 

“You’re killing me.” Brad informs him, kneeling against the end of the bed. “Deliberately. That’s just not nice.”

Nate gets to his knees and reaches for Brad, tugging him in and kissing him. Brad laughs against his mouth and lets Nate pull him back down onto the bed, settling easily between Nate’s legs. “Good morning.”

Brad slides his hands under Nate’s shoulder blades, bodies pressed closer. “Morning.” He kisses Nate again, tasting the warm taste of sleep on his tongue, feeling the scratch of Nate’s stubble against his sensitive skin. “You got in late.”

“Mmm.” Nate kisses him again, his hands curving over Brad’s ass and effectively ending the conversation. Brad’s hips roll forward and Nate groans into his mouth as he tugs Brad’s shirt out of his shorts.

“Knock.”

Brad jerks back and scrambles away from Nate, landing hard on his ass as he falls off the end of the bed. Grace is standing there, hands locked on the bowl containing her few remaining Cheerios. She blinks at Nate and then turns to Brad. 

“Knock.”

“Knock? What the…oh. Right. Knock. On the door. If you need something.” He runs a hand across the top of his scalp and gets to his feet. “More cereal?” He doesn’t dare look at Nate, sure that he’s laughing and Brad’s not quite up to seeing the humor in any of this. 

Nate manages to keep his voice even. “At least we know she can talk.” 

Brad glares at Nate as he ushers Grace out of the bedroom and back toward the kitchen. This is not his life. 

**

“Ray called.” Nate sits next to Brad on the back patio, handing him a beer. Grace is sitting in a kid’s pool that Brad filled with sand, building crumbling castles and attacking them with Army men. “Army men? Really?”

“They don’t have little plastic Marines. I know. I looked.”

Nate nods and takes a sip of his beer. “I’m supposed to inform you that if you even try to weasel your ass out of the cookout tomorrow, he’s going to show up and drag you there by your balls.”

“Why did Ray call you?”

“Because he knows you’re trying to weasel out and he figures I can just order you to be there.”

“You’re not my commanding officer anymore.”

“Well, except when we do that thing.”

Brad chokes on his drink. “Nate.”

Nate’s grinning from ear to ear and Brad has to do the same. “Anyway, Ray said you’d better be there.”

“You didn’t mention Grace, did you?”

“No. I didn’t think it was my place.”

Brad nods and looks down at his bottle, rolling it between his hands. “I’m think I might leave her at my folks’ tomorrow.”

“Why?”

“Well, until I decide what to do with her.” Brad shrugs and listens to the sudden silence of Nate’s disapproval and the soft rumbling of Grace shooting at her castles. 

“Do with her?”

“Yeah.” 

Nate taps Brad on the knee and waits for him to look up. Brad does, meeting Nate’s cool gaze. “What do you mean ‘do with her’?”

“I think that’s kind of obvious.” Brad looks away from him, back at his bottle, at anything but Nate or Grace. “I can’t keep her.”

“You’re her father.”

“I’m pretty sure Mom, Kate and Jess would laugh at me if I asked them to keep her. Mom’s done raising kids and my sisters both already have their hands full. Julia’s obviously unreliable, so that leaves adoption.”

“Adoption?” Nate stands up and shakes his head. “What the fuck are you talking about, Colbert?”

Brad raises an eyebrow. “I know it’s a little out of your Ivy League, Nate, but sometimes in the real world people realize their limitations and put their kids up for adoption so they have a chance at a better life.”

“Yeah. And you got lucky and got just that, but is that what you think you’d be giving her?” Nate scoffs, and Brad can practically feel the scorn. “Or maybe she’d be stuck in social services or orphanage limbo for a couple years until she’s an angry, unwed, thirteen-year-old mother.”

“Don’t be such an alarmist, liberal pussy.”

“You barely know her.”

“Which is why this is an ideal time. She doesn’t know me from Adam. I’m just some tall guy that she got shoved off on by her mom’s boyfriend. I’m just another face to her.”

“And what is she to you?” Nate’s face is flushed and Brad knows he’s angry. “Just some mistake you made along the line? You fucked up and now you’re saddled with her, so you’ll just dump her on someone else? She’s your daughter, Brad. A daughter you never thought you’d have.”

“A daughter I never wanted.” Brad stands up, keeping his voice cool. He looks over and Grace is watching them silently, her eyes wide. “She’ll be better off without me. With…with a family.”

“What about me?”

Every instinct Brad has is flashing a warning sign, but he doesn’t heed them. “What about you?” He shakes his head. “You want us to live together, Nate? I hate to tell you this, but if ‘Three Men and a Baby’ were remade today, all anyone would think was that Steve Guttenberg was whoring his ass out to Ted Danson and Tom Selleck on a nightly basis.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that we live together.” Nate’s voice is clipped and Brad can see the pain pricking through the mask guarding his eyes. 

“What are you suggesting?”

“She can live with me in Santa Monica while you’re deployed.”

“She’s my kid, Nate. That makes handling her my responsibility.”

“Yeah, but I thought this was our life, Brad.”

“Bad enough that I’m saddled with her.”

“Maybe I don’t mind.”

“Well, she’s not going to be around much longer, so it doesn’t really matter.” He keeps his eyes on Grace, doesn’t look at Nate at all. “If you’re so keen to have kids, maybe you should rethink who you’re sleeping with.”

When he glances up, Nate’s staring at him with betrayal darkening his eyes and Brad wants to look away, but he can’t. He’s trying to think of when anything has hurt him as badly as Nate’s gaze, but nothing measures up – not even his ex-fiancée leaving him for his best friend. That can’t be good. Nate’s phone rings in the distance and Nate turns on his heel, military precision in his bearing as he walks away.

Brad closes his eyes for a long moment then moves over and sits on the ground next to the swimming pool. Grace pushes a few of her Army men at him and he picks them up. “This guy would never have an AK-47. What the fuck are they trying to teach kids, huh? M-16, Grace. Remember that.”

He buries two of the figures up to their necks in the sand and then lines the third up to shoot at them. Grace is making noises like bullets and jabbing the soldiers into the sand castle when a shadow falls over them both. Nate’s looking at Grace, not even glancing at Brad. “I have to go back to work.”

“All day?”

“In Santa Monica.”

“Oh.” Brad lets his third guy just stand there, listing in the sand. “Have a safe drive.”

Nate huffs a laugh and Brad knows there’s nothing remotely funny about any of this. “Should I even bother to call when I get there?”

Brad reaches out, brushing his fingers against Nate’s ankle. When Nate’s gaze drops to him, he holds it, afraid to let go, to let Nate look away. “I’m a little out of my league here, Nate.”

“You survived Iraq.”

“Yeah, well…in Iraq, I had major weaponry. And you.”

“You still have me.” Nate sits beside Brad and leans into him. “She doesn’t change us, Brad.” He exhales softly. “Don’t do anything rash, okay? Just…Please?”

He nods and turns his head, kissing Nate’s temple, smelling his shampoo. “Yeah. Okay. I promise to talk to both you and my mom before I do anything.”

“Promise that you’ll listen to me and your mom before you do anything.”

“Yeah. That too.” Brad kisses him again. “Call when you get there, okay?”

“I will.” Nate pulls away and gets to his feet, glancing over at Grace. “Bye, Grace. Take good care of him, okay?”

She looks at him, eyes wide and nods, pitching sand everywhere as she waves. Nate swallows a smile and heads inside. Brad watches him walk away, not looking back at Grace until Nate’s gone from sight. Nate’s already gone before Brad manages to say goodbye.

**

Brad walks along the beach holding Grace in his arms. Most of the time he’d be carrying a surfboard and a six pack of quality beer, but instead he’s got a little girl and a diaper bag that, thankfully, has no pink on it whatsoever. As he approaches the group, no one says a word to him and, for the most part, conversation dies off completely. This is the last hurrah for most of them – Ray and Trombley and a few others are finishing their last month of their tours and so they’ll be going back to their real lives soon enough – so everyone from Bravo company is here and, as near as he can tell, all of them are staring at him.

He slings Grace’s bag beneath one of the big umbrellas Wynn has set up to cordon off their area. He turns around and waits for someone to say something and, when they don’t, he sighs and looks at Grace then back at the crowd. “This is Grace.” He waits and then sighs again, realizing he hasn’t bothered to answer any of their questions. “My daughter.”

There’s a general hubbub and Grace wiggles out of his arms as Ray’s dog, which Brad has determined is the ugliest creature in the world, sniffs at Brad’s feet. He lets her go, which sends the dog scurrying back toward Ray. Grace shrieks in delight and follows the dog, which seems to frighten it even more. Ray whistles for it, but the dog keeps going, Grace toddling along behind.

“Fuck, Brad. Your kid’s scaring my dog.”

“Your dog is a pussy. They had to give your dog some balls just so they could charge you to get him fixed.” The dog veers left and heads back toward the group and Grace turns quickly, spinning and landing on her butt. “She’s just a little girl. Fuck, the dog is taller than she is.”

“But the dog doesn’t have opposable thumbs.”

“Neither do you.”

Ray snorts and spits on the sand. “So. You have a kid. That’s new.”

“Yeah. No fucking shit.” Brad shoves his hands in the back pockets of his shorts and watches Grace as she gets a handful of Ray’s dog’s hair and buries her face against him, pushing him onto the ground and falling over on top of him. She laughs and Brad closes his eyes at the sound. He could get used to that sound. 

“I was unaware you actually played pussy pool.”

“I told you, Ray. Bisexuality is not something made up just so girls can get out of fucking you.” He should not be having this conversation, at least not here, though he’s trusted every single one of these men with his life. “Anyway, obviously, yes. I’ve had sex with a girl.”

“I can’t fucking believe you finally find someone to fuck you and you knock her up. Jesus. Super fucking Aryan sperm. Hitler would have loved you, dude.”

“Except for the whole Jewish thing, yeah.” Brad wonders what religion Julia was and if it matters. “So I have a kid.”

“Fuck, dude.” Ray pushes his sunglasses up onto his head and squints at where Grace is sitting on the dog, petting its fur. “She looks like you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks.”

“What’s Nate think about it?” Ray glances sideways at Brad, his eyebrow cocked. “Nate does know, right?”

“Yes. Nate’s aware.”

“Is that why Nate’s not here? Because I will kick his ass for you, homes. I mean, he’s the one who said he wanted both of you to be free while he went off to get his dick sucked by Harvard professors. I mean, sure, he didn’t plan on you trying to repopulate the planet or anything, but still. Shit happens.”

“Nate went home. Work called.” Brad wishes he had something – a drink, a cigarette, anything to center his focus on. “And he’s…fine with it. I guess. I mean, as fine as you can be when you come home from work one day and find out your…”

“Boyfriend?”

“Friend has suddenly acquired a two-year-old.”

“First off,” Ray holds up one finger. “Do not fucking insult my intelligence.”

“Insulting your intelligence is sort of the basis for all our interactions.”

“Second,” Ray’s an expert at ignoring him, “you’d better not be fucking lying about Fick.”

“He really is in Santa Monica.”

“And third, what the fuck are you going to do now?”

“Ah. Yes. That question.” Brad starts to answer then stops. “Grace. Don’t lick the dog back.”

Ray sighs. “Don’t move. We need beer.” He walks over to where a few guys are standing around the four coolers and snags two bottles. He ignores their questions and pointed looks and it would be funny watching Ray warn off four guys bigger than him if it didn’t actually work. He walks back up to Brad then keeps walking, moving out past the edges of the group. Ray’s dog tags along, which means Grace follows as well. Ray finds a weather-beaten log and sits down on it, stretching his scrawny-ass legs out and burying his feet in the sand. “Talk.”

“I found out about her on Wednesday when I walked into my mom’s house and she was there.” Brad opens his beer and takes a long drink. 

“And you told Nate that night?”

“No. Nate was right there with me.” He watches Grace pour handfuls of sand on the dog, watches the dog just lie there and take it. “That dog is fucking retarded.”

“I need something to remind me of the Corps, dude.” Ray drinks some of his beer. “How’d he do? No, let me guess. He was stoic and accepting. Compassionate and kind. He was, as always, the well-mannered, momma’s boy we know and love.”

“He…He was fine. He acted fine. He acts fine. He’s got it all thought out, you know? All fucking figured, I think.” Brad sets his bottle against a break in the wood and rubs his hands over his face, the dampness of his palms cool on his skin. “I know what he thinks, but I’m pretty sure that’s got fuck-all to do with what he feels about the whole damn thing.”

“Probably feels a lot like you, dude.”

“Yeah? Uncertain? Scared. Unsure? Fucked six ways to Sunday?”

“Yeah.”

“Like he’s now got to tell his…significant other that, along with having a newly dumped on him daughter, he has to ship out in a month to go to Fort Lewis, Washington to train with an Army Stryker Brigade. Then five months after that, he’s up for a two year tour of duty in Iraq with action centering around Baghdad and Fallujah?”

Ray’s hand snaps out and he shoves Brad off the log. “You fucking…” Ray shakes his head and he glares at Brad. “You’re fucking kidding me.”

“No.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Iceman. Do you have a death wish? You’re as bad as fucking Kocher. What the fuck does it take for you to realize that those fucking Hajis want to kill each other in peace and if we don’t fucking let them, they’re going to kill you?”

Brad stays on the sand. “I’m a fucking Marine, Ray. I’m not in it for the fucking G.I. Bill or the 9/11 bullshit. I’m in it for life. This is what I was long before everyone else got on the fucking yellow ribbon bandwagon, okay? This is what I do. This is what I am. In seven years I’ve got my twenty. In seventeen, I’m at thirty and golden.”

“If you’re not fucking dead. In case you haven’t noticed, shit hasn’t gotten better over there.” Ray gets to his feet, glaring at him like some angry prom date. “God, you’re a fucking idiot. Jesus.” He shakes his head and turns his gaze up at the sky, looking down with realization dawning on his face. “Wait a minute. You haven’t fucking told Nate?”

“The official word doesn’t come down until Monday.”

“Oh, and you’re waiting on the fucking official word, because we all know they don’t fuck anything up on a consistent basis. Hell, they fuck shit up so much, they’re owned by fucking Ex-Lax. Jesus Christ.”

Brad leans back against the log and blows out a breath. Grace looks up from the half-buried dog and gets to her feet, walking over to Brad and crawling on his lap. The dog gets up and shakes himself violently, wandering off twitching. Brad lets Grace get settled and then holds her hips lightly, bouncing her on his thighs. “So I think adoption’s the best course of action.”

At first, he thinks Ray smacks him on the back of the head, but then his brain kicks in and he knows Ray’s not that stupid. Or he thinks so until Ray does it again. 

“What the fuck, Person?”

“She’s a kid, not a fucking course of action, you asswipe.” Brad stares at Ray like he’s Lassie ripping into Billy. “So your life got a little fucking more complicated. You fucked up. I know it’s really fucking hard for the Iceman to admit that he’s fucking human just like the rest of us poor saps, but you are. And that little girl is your responsibility more than any of the rest of us ever were and you never once put any of us up for adoption.”

“Doesn’t mean I didn’t want to.”

“I’m not fucking joking.” Ray shakes his head angrily. “One stupid bitch breaks your heart and you’re going to push everyone else away? Fine. Maybe you’re right. Maybe she’s better off. Let some stupid liberal, bleeding-heart, grass-smoking, fucking martini drinking assholes adopt your kid and turn her into a fucking Barbie doll.”

“And what would I turn her into, Ray?” He doesn’t mean to ask the question, but it comes out anyway, his voice soft. 

“I don’t know, but neither do you. And all of us, Trombley excluded, turned out okay. So you can’t be all bad. Besides, you’ve got Nate. And all of us.”

“Now you’re threatening me?”

“You’re a shit, Colbert.” Ray grabs Brad’s beer and downs the rest of it then squats down and looks at Grace before turning his dark eyes on Brad. “You’re stuck with her just like you’re stuck with all of us. Now, am I done being the voice of reason? Because I’m totally going to lose any credibility I have as a fuck-up if I have to keep it up.” 

“Yeah. We’re good here.”

“Besides, if you put her up for adoption, I don’t even want to think what Mama Colbert would do to you. I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t be having any more kids afterward though.”

“I don’t plan on having any more kids.”

“Yeah, I’m thinking she’d rip your fucking dick off, dude. It wouldn’t be you not planning, it would be you not having a choice. And I’m pretty sure that would piss off the Captain a lot.” Ray pats Grace on the head like she’s a dog. “A fucking kid, man. That’s awesome. It’s like God and Santa Claus granted all my prayers.” He pats Grace’s head again and laughs. “Good luck. You’re gonna need it.” 

**

Grace’s nose and shoulders are pink from the sun and he’s relatively certain he has a claim against whoever said that suntan lotion was waterproof and SPF 50. She has sand in her shoes and in her hair and her eyelashes are nearly invisible against her cheeks. He glances in the rearview mirror at her and smiles against his will. “Okay. So. What am I going to do with you? Clearly if I put you up for adoption everyone who knows me will disown me. Also, I have a feeling they kind of frown on the people putting kids up for adoption stalking the people doing the adopting to make sure they’re not fucking up their kid.

“So that leaves us with a few options. Your grandmother would probably take you for a while, but two years is kind of a long time to ask her to do that. That’s the problem, you know. Two years is a long time to ask anyone. Maybe she and your aunts could pass you around. Though if we do that, you’re going to have to learn to kick the boys’ asses a lot faster.”

Grace sighs softly in her sleep and squeezes the stuffed dog Nate had bought for her. “Right. There’s Nate. You’d like Nate. He’d take good care of you. Probably be a hell of a lot better father than I would. Of course, he’d also be too smart to actually have a baby by accident. He is smart. Ivy League smart. That’s the problem, you know. He’s going to wise up pretty soon and realize that he could do a hell of a lot better than some stupid Marine sergeant.”

He looks back at her again and then thumps his head on the back of his seat. “Fuck. Just…just fuck, okay? I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t fucking…I was surfing. I was surfing and then I planned to have dinner with Nate and then fuck him senseless. That was my plan for the day. For the week. For…for however long, okay? Shit. Fuck.” He slams his hand into the steering wheel. “Fuck.”

Grace’s voice is quiet but strong. “Fuck.”

“Oh, fuck me. Don’t say that.” He glances back once more and shakes his head. “Don’t ever say that. Your grandmother and aunts and great-grandmother will kill me.” She’s smiling at him sleepily, the dog still tight against her. “Okay. New rules. No cussing until you’re eighteen. Also, no sleeping with boys or girls until you’re thirty. And no Britney Spears. Pink is okay. The singer. Not the color. Something with an edge, but not slutty. No daughter of mine is allowed to be slutty.”

He turns on the radio to distract himself, to distract her and put her back to sleep. He doesn’t have a goal in mind other than to clear his head, but it’s a hell of a lot harder in an economy car than it is on his bike. He drives aimlessly until the sun starts to fall, bathing the air in orange and red, then he turns toward his parents’ house. The porch light is on when he parks the car, as is the light in his father’s study, but he can see his mom sitting on the front swing reading a book. Grace’s eyes are open and Brad’s almost gotten used to being stared at. 

“So, this is your grandmother. She’s one of the ones we don’t say those words around. Okay? So…either keep up the not talking thing or say kid things. Like…” He has no idea what kids say. “Not talking works. Trust me, I prefer it when I do it, but apparently since you don’t say anything I just ramble and babble and fuck me if I’m not turning into Ray Person.”

“Brad?”

He rolls his window down and waves to his mom. “Hey.”

“What are you doing here, sweetheart?”

“Just…Grace and I came by to visit.” He disentangles himself from the front seat and opens Grace’s door, unbuckling her from her car seat. He puts her down and she grabs his leg, clinging to him. “C’mon, Gracie. Your grandma doesn’t bite. In fact, I bet she has cookies.”

“It’s late. She shouldn’t have cookies.” His mom tries to frown and fails miserably. “You’re a bad influence.”

“I keep trying to tell you guys that, but no one listens to me.” He reaches down and picks Grace up again, walking over to the porch. He sets Grace down then sprawls on the steps, staring out at the streetlights. “What made you adopt me?”

His mother’s indrawn breath lets him know that he’s surprised her. “The same reason everyone adopts.”

“Why me though?”

“You were ridiculously cute.” She’s smiling when he glances back at her. “Your ears stuck out and you had this shock of black hair. You just lay there in your crib staring at everything, totally quiet.”

Brad turns his gaze to Grace and then back out to the night where the stars are starting to dot the sky. “I’m being sent to Washington state for five months then deployed to Iraq again.”

“What?”

“It hasn’t been officially announced, but…” he blows out a breath. “Nate went back to Santa Monica. He doesn’t know yet.”

“Bradley!” His mom sighs and shakes her head. “So when are you getting your ass up to Santa Monica?”

“It’s just…” Brad shrugs and looks back at Grace. “What do I do, Mom? What do I do if I get there and he…”

“Nate’s not going to…”

“You don’t get it, Mom. I have been in every kind of shit. I have seen situations fucked up in ways you wouldn’t think possible, and I can do that. I get that. I can deal with it with a smile on my face. But this…Nate…” He rubs his face and eyes, fighting against the sharp prick of tears. “I don’t know how to do this.”

“Brad, honey.” She moves off the porch swing and sits next to him on the stairs. Grace’s eyes follow her until she settles next to Brad, then Grace pushes her way between them and settles on Brad’s lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. His mom bites back a sound and she slips her arm around his waist and pulls them both closer to her. “There’s nothing wrong with feeling. Nothing wrong with risking your heart.”

“Yeah, well, getting it broken kind of sucks.”

His mom laughs softly and kisses his cheek. “If it’s any consolation, I’m pretty sure Nate has no intention of breaking your heart.”

“Doesn’t mean he won’t.” Brad looks at Grace, brushing her hair out of her face. “I mean, it’s bad enough that I’m asking him to deal with the fact that I’m now solely responsible for my illegitimate child that I’ve known about for all of four days, but, by the way, I’m about to disappear from his life for about two and a half years.”

“Nate’s not exactly mercurial, honey. Besides, he knows what your life is like. He’s still chosen to be with you.”

“Has he, Mom? We’ve never said anything or made any kind of-”

“Think for a minute, would you? Nate had offers to work at Brookings Institution and the Center for Strategic and International Studies in DC and he turned them down to work at RAND.”

“RAND’s a good opportunity for Nate.”

“RAND’s in Santa Monica. A good 3000 miles from Nate’s family, but only a few hours from you. RAND isn’t about ideology or Nate’s career. It’s about you.”

“So I just…what? Tell him I’m leaving? Ask him to wait?”

“Yes. If that’s what you want him to do.”

“And what about her?” Grace’s hair is like silk against his hand, her steady, soft breath warm through his t-shirt.

“We’ll figure something out.”

“Nate said he’d keep her. Of course, that was before knowing what my assignment is.”

His mom presses her head to his shoulder. “Bradley, I love you dearly, but I honestly have no idea how you can be so monumentally stupid.”

“This is really going downhill as a pep talk, Mom.”

“Nate told you he would take care of your child while you were deployed.”

“Yeah. But he doesn’t know it’s going to be for more than two years.”

“Did you ask him if he’d do that?”

“No!” Grace starts at his outburst, so he rubs his hand up and down her back.

“So Nate just volunteered.” His mom shakes her head. “You know him better than I do, but something tells me Nate doesn’t make any kind of decision like that lightly.”

“There are logistics, Mom. Circumstances. Watching my kid for a month or two or, hell, even six is one thing. Being her in locum parentis for two and a half years is something else.”

“He offered.”

“Only because I was talking about putting her up for adoption.” Brad feels the silence and the weight of his mother’s stare. “I’m not going to, obviously.”

“Brad.”

“Mom.” He closes his eyes and rests his head against Grace’s. “I’m trying to figure this out as best I can.”

“And you thought that was adoption.”

“I got lucky.”

“We got lucky.” His mom smiles at him. “But I don’t want to live my life knowing my granddaughter is out there somewhere without us.” She rubs the base of Brad’s neck, the same comforting gesture he’s using on Grace. “And you’re my son, so I know there’s no way you can live with that.”

He turns his head and kisses her cheek. “So what do I do now?”

“Talk to Nate.”

“And ask him to put his life on hold for me.”

“Why not? Did you plan on finding someone new?” She reaches out and tucks a strand of Grace’s hair back behind her ear. 

“No, but…” Brad blows out a frustrated breath and closes his eyes, not wanting to see the emotions – the worry and concern and love – on his mother’s face. “Whether we want to admit it or not, we have to think about how it would look.”

“How what would look?”

“Nate. Taking care of my kid. There’s no tie between us, Mom. No reason for him to, out of the kindness of his heart, take on a two-year-old when he’s an up-and-comer, when his name’s getting mentioned in political circles.”

“He can afford it better than some of your other friends.”

“Monetarily, Mom. He can’t afford what it means and, to be honest, neither can I.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Mom, Nate and I…” He sighs and leans his head back. “Fuck. This should not be harder than coming out was.”

“You never came out. You just brought Nate home. Even then, I think we were a little naïve until Kate came in and stage-whispered that you and Nate were in the backyard kissing.”

“Nate can’t go into politics if he’s screwing some guy. Especially if that guy happens to have been one of his enlisted men, because then there will be charges of impropriety on top of the charges of being a faggot and then that fucks up Nate’s military record, and casts a whole lot of shit in doubt, and…” He blows out an angry breath at the porch ceiling. “And if he’s taking care of my kid while I’m overseas, then it looks…suspicious. And if it looks suspicious about Nate, then it looks suspicious about me and I’m going to be in a country where the bad guys and the good guys are likely to be gunning for me, whether because I’m some godless infidel or because they’re afraid I’m going to suck their cocks in their sleep.” He stops and can feel the blush burning his cheeks. “Um. Sorry.”

“Brad.” His mom pauses for a long time then starts again, her voice soft. “I know that we didn’t always do the right thing for you, and maybe…maybe this is our fault…”

“Mom, if you try to pull some fucked up ‘we made you gay’ bullshit, I will have no recourse but to tell you off. Besides, I’m not. I’m bisexual.” He laughs, the sound frailer than he’d like to admit. “Which kind of sounds like a big cop-out put that way.”

“I meant the military.”

“Oh.”

“You were just…more than we knew how to control. Too smart and too wild, too…too everything. And with your sisters and working and…we thought it was best. We thought it would give you structure, give you something to fight for instead of rail against.”

“I chose the Marines, Mom. You didn’t do that for me.”

“But maybe we made you want it or think it was the only recourse.”

“Mom.” Brad shifts Grace’s sleeping form on his lap so he can turn and look at his mother. “You and Dad always made sure I was good enough and smart enough for anything. I never thought I didn’t have options - every option available to me. I became a Marine because that’s what I wanted to be. I love what I do. I’m amazingly good at it sometimes, and it gives me more than I can explain. Even when it’s stupid and fucked up and more retarded than a bus full of Special Olympics kids, I love it. I need it in my life as much as I need you guys and Nate and…” He breaks off, his breath catching in his chest. “I don’t want to walk away from it, and I don’t want to be forced to because…because I was really fucking drunk one night and screwed up. Literally.”

“Watch your language.”

“I’m a Marine, Mom. And that means that Grace can’t be with Nate, because I can’t be with Nate.”

“But you are.”

He nods. “But I am.”

“Would you like to know what I think?”

“That I’m a complete and utter idiot?”

“Yes, but that’s not what I mean.” She smiles at him and then looks down at Grace. “I think Nate Fick is a very good man that you trust and respect and, if you’re going to ask someone to look after your daughter who, by the way, is pretty positive proof that you don’t mind women all that much, then I can’t think of anyone else you would ask. I mean, people couldn’t honestly expect you to trust your daughter to Ray or something, could they?”

“I actually kind of like, Grace, Mom. I wouldn’t do that to her.”

“So, as a mother, I think that leaving her with someone like Nate who lives close enough to your sisters and parents and will be responsible enough to make sure that she sees your family makes perfect sense. And I’m sure that somewhere in this crazy universe you know someone who can make it all legal and above board so if anyone so much as questions your motives, you can feel sufficiently justified in kicking his ass.”

Brad laughs. “Watch your language.”

“And as for what you and Nate decide on privately…well, the way I see it, that’s no one’s business but yours unless you intend to make it someone else’s. Not to mention that I would wager a decent amount of money that, given the choice between some sort of political ambitions and loving you, Nate wouldn’t hesitate to move down here and set up housekeeping in your apartment.”

“Nate wouldn’t do that. He’d be afraid of how it would look for me.”

“You’re impossible, and extremely contrary, and I think you really need to get to Santa Monica if you plan on making it before morning.”

“What about Grace?”

“Well, if she’ll let you go, I think she could probably spend a couple of days with me and your Dad. But don’t count on free babysitting all the time. We have lives of our own.”

“I don’t think golf and tennis count as a life, Mom.”

She slaps him on the arm and smiles at him, leaning in to kiss him softly. “I love you, you know.”

“As if I were your own?”

“Without qualifiers, you little shit. Now give me your daughter and go. I imagine Nate’s missing you.”

**

The drive from Oceanside to Santa Monica takes roughly three and a half hours in traffic and, at this time of night, about two hours. Brad makes it from his apartment to Nate’s place in an hour and a half on the bike. He feels like he hasn’t ridden it forever, like the weight of months in country are still on his shoulders. The ride doesn’t change that, but he’s relatively certain that’s more because he’s spent the entire time trying to figure out what the hell he’s going to say to Nate. He kills the bike well up the street, sure that Nate wouldn’t appreciate him roaring into his parking lot like a bat out of hell.

He leaves the bike next to Nate’s car and jogs up the stairs, stopping outside the door and wondering what comes next. He has a key, but using it while Nate’s home feels wrong. Knocking doesn’t seem like a much better option, given that Nate might take it as Brad not feeling comfortable and ringing the doorbell only pisses off the lady who lives next to Nate. He sighs and settles for knocking, staring down at the toe of his boot.

Nate opens the door and stands there, staring at Brad. He’s disheveled as hell, wearing nothing more than a pair of running shorts and a sweaty t-shirt and his hair is all over the place. Sweat highlights the bone structure of his face, his cheeks flushed with exertion. “Brad. Hey.”

“Hey.”

“This is…kind of a surprise.”

“Are you busy? I mean, obviously you’re busy. Can I interrupt anyway?”

“Sure. You can spot me.” Nate disappears into the hallway and Brad follows him, shutting the door behind them. The second bedroom is set up as a weight room and it’s obvious Nate’s been working himself hard if the weights on the bar are any indication.

“You’re not lifting this without a spotter, are you?”

“You’re here.” 

“Yeah, but the weights are already on there.” He knows he sounds like an older brother, a tone he knows Nate hates a lot. “Nate.”

“Maybe I knew you were coming.”

“For as many times as I know you’ve known I was coming, I’m pretty sure this isn’t one of them.” He leans against the wall and watches Nate secure the weights to the bar. “So, did they call you back to avert nuclear war or something?”

“Something like that. Yeah.” Nate lays on the bench and centers himself, taking deep breaths. Getting his arms in position, even without lifting, the definition of his muscles comes out and he wraps his hands tighter around the bar. “You going to spot me?”

“You’re going to lift even if I don’t, so of course I’m going to spot you.” He moves to the head of the bench and grasps the bar, counting down from three before helping Nate lift it off the rack. He waits for Nate’s grunt of acknowledgement then lets go, stepping back just enough to let Nate press the weight, but close enough to catch it if he loses control. He wants to say something, to break the silence, but Nate is concentrating, his body beaded with sweat. He goes for ten reps then drops it back in the rack, letting his arms fall down to his sides. Brad watches him lie there, watches his chest move. His own chest is tight as he speaks. “Do you want me to leave?”

“No.” Nate doesn’t look at him as he sits up, grabbing a towel off the ergometer and scrubbing his face with it. “Unless you came to tell me that you can’t see me anymore, in which case I want you to go to away until you come to your senses.”

“I love you.”

Nate drops the towel to his lap his eyes sketched upward in disbelief. “Excuse me?”

“Huh. That…that wasn’t quite what I intended to say.”

“Did you mean it?”

Brad exhales and sits on the end of the bench, his knees against Nate’s. “This whole thing with Grace has just…No. Wait. Before I get to that, I…I want you to know that we’re going to pretend like the conversation we had back at my place didn’t happen. I’m not…holding you to anything.”

Nate’s jaw tightens and Brad rubs his hands along Nate’s thighs from his knees to the hem of his shorts then he leans in and kisses Nate hard and quick. Nate’s lips part, his soft, surprised gasp filling Brad’s mouth in the instant before he pulls away. “Brad.”

“My orders come through on Monday, but I got a heads up.” He watches Nate’s face, needing to see everything in the instant before Nate shuts down, clamps control over his emotions. “I ship out to Fort Lewis to hook up with a Stryker team. Five months in Washington state, and then we deploy to Iraq. For two years.”

Nothing moves on Nate’s face, nothing registers in his eyes, but his voice is soft. “Oh.”

Brad waits, his fingers still trailing patterns on Nate’s thighs. Finally he breaks the silence. “Oh?”

“That’s…I thought they weren’t doing tours more than one year.” His voice is distant, still quiet and Brad can hear Iraq in it – disillusionment, loss of hope, disappointment, the silent death of Nate’s idealism. 

“Fighting’s escalating, so they’re expanding the length of the tours, trying to be realistic, though they swear they’ll bring us home before then, because the war’s going to be over soon. Which, you know, we heard forty days in, so I’m a little disinclined to believe them. So. I’ll be gone. A long time.” His throat feels thick and he wishes Nate would yell at him, hit him, respond. He should say more, but he can’t get the words out, so he closes his eyes and leans in, his mouth nearly against Nate’s, holding his breath between them. “Nate?”

“When do you leave?”

“Three and a half weeks.”

“Oh.” Nate says again, leaning back, putting distance between them as he grabs the towel from his lap and rubs his face with it again, leaving his skin a mottled pink. 

“Nate.” Brad doesn’t recognize the sound of his own voice as he slides his hands down under Nate’s thighs and jerks him closer, draping Nate’s thighs over his own. He slides a possessive hand around Nate’s nape and holds him, kissing him hard, refusing to grant Nate space or air until he relents and relaxes in Brad’s grip, kissing back just as hard, his tongue fighting with Brad’s for control. Nate shifts up onto Brad’s lap and his hands dig into Brad’s shoulders as his legs wrap around Brad’s waist. “Fuck. Nate.”

“Fuck me.” Nate voice is gravelly with pent-up emotion, breaking on the words. He kisses Brad hard, biting at his mouth until Brad tastes blood. “Fuck me.”

Brad leans in for balance and stands, hands sliding back to cup Nate’s ass. He stumbles backwards toward Nate’s bedroom, letting Nate’s hands keep them from crashing into walls as Brad focuses on walking and squeezing Nate’s ass through the thin material of his shorts. They don’t speak between kisses, too busy gasping for air. Nate shoves his leg out to push the bedroom door open and Brad turns, dumping Nate on the bed. 

They don’t waste time with pleasantries or foreplay, both of them stripping off their clothes and tossing them aside. Nate has less to strip off, so he digs in the drawer for condoms and lube, on his knees in front of Brad before Brad’s barely managed to get out of his boots and get his jeans undone. Nate slaps Brad’s hands away as he rips open the condom, and Brad tugs his shirt over his head, the groan caught against the fabric as Nate’s hand wraps around his dick, stroking the rubber onto him.

Brad wraps his hand around the back of Nate’s skull and tips his head up, kissing him again. It’s hungry and possessive and Nate moans into Brad’s mouth, his hands still busy stroking lube on Brad’s dick. Gasping for air, Brad grabs Nate’s wrists, fingers closing tightly as he forces him down onto the bed, holding Nate captive beneath him.

They stare at each other, neither speaking, the air filled with their rough breathing. Brad breaks the moment, surging down to kiss Nate again. It hurts to kiss him, his lips swollen and cut, but Brad doesn’t stop, demanding more as they crush together.

Nate arches against Brad, his hips canting upwards, his dick leaving a warm, wet stripe on Brad’s stomach. Brad grits his teeth and struggles for control, sounds thick in his throat. He releases one of Nate’s wrists and reaches down, stroking his hand along his cock until his fingers are slick with lube.

“Jesus, fuck, Brad.” Nate’s still angled up off the bed, his legs spread, his body opened up. “Quit fucking around.”

Brad presses against Nate’s opening, sliding the pad of his fingers over the muscle a few times before thrusting in slowly. Nate’s breath stutters out of him, escalating rapidly as Brad increases the pace. Nate’s body is tight around him, and Brad knows he should release Nate’s other wrist and add more lube, slick him up, but everything feels too weighted, too urgent. Nate’s sprawled and begging, thrusting down against Brad’s fingers. 

Nate wrenches his wrist free of Brad’s grip, and Brad knows there’s going to be a dark ring of bruises on Nate’s skin. Hand slipping between them, Nate reaches down and grasps Brad’s cock, stroking it hard and tight. Brad sways forward, groaning and reaching out to catch himself on the headboard to keep from falling. “Fuck me,” Nate grits out. “Now.”

Brad knocks Nate’s hand away and wraps his hand around his dick, guiding it against Nate, pushing into him. Nate tightens, his cock flagging slightly, shining wetness painting the head. Brad stills, trying to catch his breath, but Nate refuses to let him, pushing down and taking Brad deeper. It’s just on the edge of painful for him, and Brad can only imagine how it feels for Nate. He leans in, nuzzling Nate’s jaw then deliberately slows their pace, his teeth grazing instead of biting, his hips rolling instead of pounding. Nate makes a sound, thick and rough, and Brad finds his mouth again, stroking his tongue over Nate’s lips. “Nate.”

Nate chokes on something dangerously like a sob. “Don’t.”

“Nate. No.” Brad’s tongue slides silkily into Nate’s mouth, fucking it slowly and deliberately. Nate shakes his head, but Brad refuses to pull away, sinking down onto his elbows and threading his fingers through Nate’s sweaty hair. Nate shivers beneath him and Brad pulls back to catch his eye. Nate’s face is open and exposed, every fear and feeling written clearly in his expression. Brad closes his eyes against the emotion, resting his forehead against Nate’s, breathing in sweat and sex, heat and Nate. “Don’t.”

Nate breath feels painful as it ratchets through his chest, pressed so tightly against Brad. His body is hot and tight, clenched around Brad’s cock. “Don’t go.”

“I have to.” Brad starts moving again, sliding deeper with every thrust. “Don’t want to. Want to be here.”

“Liar.” There’s no heat in Nate’s voice and, more importantly, no resignation. He even manages a faint smile. “You want to be where the action is.”

“Get plenty of action here with you.” Brad can feel his orgasm threatening and he fights it, not willing for any of this to end. “First time I’ve ever wanted to stay.”

Nate shivers again, his hands sliding along Brad’s back, fingers tacky from lube. “If you die over there, Colbert, I’ll fucking kill you.”

“Roger that, sir.” Brad kisses Nate hard, sliding a hand down between them to wrap around Nate’s dick. “Have too much to come back for.” He squeezes Nate’s dick and kisses him. Nate wraps his legs around Brad, urging him deeper, and Brad’s hips piston slowly, making Nate gasp as Brad hits just right, the not-quite give of flesh sending a shudder down Nate’s spine. He moans deep in his throat and comes, and Brad keeps stroking him, coating Nate’s cock in the spill of his come. Brad’s own orgasm follows hard on the heels of Nate’s, matching the thrust of it to the slide of his hand.

Nate finally pants for Brad to stop and Brad stills inside him. He’s too close to see Nate’s eyes, but Nate’s body is relaxed beneath him, the tension leeched out into the sheets, spilled across both their stomachs in a hot, sticky mess. Nate lies there, his breath making Brad’s nipples hard, his fingers brushing the faint white-blond hairs on Brad’s stomach. “So what do we do?”

It’s not lost on Brad that Nate’s question is devoid of any actual emotional investment, but then again, Nate’s probably not pussy enough to just blurt it out like some teenage girl looking for emotional blackmail. “What do you want to do?”

“What I want is kind of tertiary, Brad. I’m pretty sure that what you’re obligated to give to Uncle Sam and what Grace needs supersede anything that Nate Fick wants.”

“What Nate Fick wants is important to me.” Brad brushes Nate’s hair back. “I’m going to be gone a long time.”

Nate sits up and Brad stares at his back, wanting to reach out and touch him. Instead he clenches his hand into a fist and rests it on the bed beside Nate. “What about Grace?” Nate’s voice is stiff and flat. “Are you still planning to put her up for adoption?”

“No.”

“So what are you going to do with her for two and a half years?”

“Ray said he’d babysit. I just sort of forgot to mention how long I’d be gone. I’m going to owe him a fortune when I get back.”

“Ray.” The joke falls somewhere on the bed between them and Nate’s back stiffens. “You’ll let a backwoods, sister-fucking, Grade-A retard like Ray Person watch your kid.” Something echoes in Nate’s tone and he glances back at Brad. Brad’s had too many occasions in his life to see the look of hurt desperation in Nate’s eyes and the thought that he put it there kills him. “You won’t fucking trust me, but you’ll give your daughter to Ray.”

“Nate. No. Fuck.” Brad reaches out then, his fingers tracing down Nate’s spine. “No, Nate.” Brad moves in and wraps his arms around Nate, resting his head on Nate’s back. “I was joking. Fuck, I wouldn’t leave a dead goldfish in Ray’s care.”

Nate refuses to relax back into him and Brad moves his forehead to Nate’s shoulder. “Please, Nate.”

“So this is goodbye then. You came by for a final hurrah?”

Brad squeezes his eyes closed tightly, his shaky sigh making his whole body tremble. “Is that what you want?”

“Is that what I…What I want?” Nate’s laugh is rough enough that it hurts Brad. “Jesus, you are so infuriatingly stupid.” Nate jerks out of Brad’s grip and, for the first time Brad can remember, he feels honest-to-God naked in front of Nate. “Go home, Brad.”

“Go…?”

“Home.” Nate gets off the bed and tugs on a pair of boxers. “I can’t do this right now, so go home.”

Brad manages to get off the bed, his whole body numb. He knows that won’t last – like any wound, after the shock wears off, this is going to hurt bad enough to bring him to his knees. Maybe he’ll get lucky and the shock will last all the way back to Oceanside. Maybe he’ll get lucky and it won’t.

He curbs that train of thought and dresses in silence since it’s obvious there’s nothing he has to say that Nate wants to hear. He tugs on his briefs and turns to grab his jeans, not surprised to find Nate gone by the time he turns around. He doesn’t see Nate as he goes to the door either. He’s probably back in the weight room or in the kitchen, avoiding Brad. Brad rubs his thumb over the doorknob and then wrenches the door open, closing it silently behind him before heading to his bike.

**

“Daddy! More!” Brad uses his weight to rock the surfboard until Grace laughs in delight and kicks her feet and waves her hands. Brad’s hands are steady on her hips. She’s dressed in brown board shorts and a brown spring suit vest with pink hearts that Kate bought her and Brad’s done his best to cover it with her neon orange life vest that glares brilliantly against Brad’s black spring vest and black shorts.

“Shall we go ashore and see Tash?”

“No, Daddy! More!”

Brad can’t help but grin as she turns her head up and smiles at him, “You want to ride?”

“Yay!”

“Okay. Hold on.” He makes sure her grip is secure on the sides of the board before he slips off, his arm over the board behind her. He lets the soft roll of the waves carry them to shore, still smiling at Grace’s laughter. When they get to the shallow water, he helps her off the board. She shrieks in delight and splashes in the waves. He lets her until sand flies up around her then he scoops her up and guides her over to a large purple umbrella. He doesn’t let her go until she sees Tasha and cries out her name, and then he sets her on the sand and watches her run up to the blonde, wobbling slightly from side to side in her life jacket.

“Going back out?” Tasha’s a college student and a fellow surfer who watches Grace every morning so Brad can get a few good waves in. He’s found that, since Grace has been with him, more women seem to flock to him, but he’s known Tasha long enough that he trusts her to pay attention to Grace for Grace rather than to impress Brad. “Yeah. If that’s cool?”

“Sure. I’ve got another half hour before I’ve got to split.”

“Thanks.” He leans down and kisses Grace’s head. “Stay with Tash, okay, Grace?”

“Water, Daddy!”

“Don’t worry.” Tasha stands up and brushes off the bottom of her bikini. “I’ll take her down to the water. And I promise I won’t let her drown.”

He smirks his thanks and heads back down to the water, taking the board to the boneyard, out past where the waves are breaking and starts swimming forward, determined to catch a few good waves. He’s on his last week of leave, his last week in California. Most of his stuff is packed and in storage or at his parents’ house, the rest in boxes and suitcases in his sister Jessica’s guest room. He’s sublet his apartment to the new Gunnery Sergeant taking over for Mike Wynn, and his life is defined by mornings at the beach with Grace and phone calls to Poke’s cousin’s wife in Tacoma, Washington to figure out care for Grace for his too short term at Fort Lewis.

His mom watches Grace in the afternoons and Brad works out, putting himself through modified drills until he feels like his breath is going to burn him up from the inside. Occasionally he takes the bike out at full speed, riding just shy of a death wish, searching for the numbness again, wanting anything that can take away the sharp ache where Nate used to be.

The wave catches him off guard and he goes under, coming up sputtering. With the skill born and beaten into him, he gets out of his own head and pays attention to the ocean before she kicks his ass. When he comes into shore, exhausted but alive again, Grace isn’t hard to spot in her neon orange vest, but he doesn’t see any sign of Tasha’s hot pink suit. All he sees is some man kneeling next to his daughter.

Board forgotten, Brad’s across the beach in no time, tackling the guy to the ground. They both grunt on impact and Brad’s fist is ready to fly, arm cocked back when he hears his name at the same time recognition and muscle memory kick in.

“Nate.” Brad scrambles back and off of him, ending up on his ass next to Grace. Grace immediately wraps her arms around Brad’s neck, hiding behind him and peeking over his shoulder.

Nate sits up, the front of his shirt soaked from Brad’s suit. “Not that I expected a parade or anything, but I don’t know that I merit that sort of greeting.”

“Sorry. It’s just that I left her with Tasha, and when I came in all I saw was Grace and some guy, no Tasha around.” His breath aches in his chest, nothing to do with running or tackling or anything but the closeness of Nate, the fact that, after three long weeks without him, Nate is here.

“Your mom said you’d be here, and Tasha knows me, so…”

“No. Yeah. I mean…it’s…” Brad sighs and scrubs his hand over his hair. “Hi.”

“Hi.” Nate looks older, different. Brad’s entire body aches at the sight of him as adrenaline and fear for Grace give way to the familiar desire and warmth Nate brings. Used to bring.

“What…” Brad has to swallow. “What brings you here?”

“Your hair’s…long.”

Brad self-consciously rakes his fingers through his hair again and, while it’s not long by any standard definition of the word, it’s definitely long for Brad. “I’m still on leave.”

Nate gets to his feet, brushing off sand as he does. Brad can’t help watching him for a moment, reviving memories that he’s been trying like hell to forget. “Do you think we could talk?”

“Sure.” Brad reaches to grasp Grace’s hands and holds her before levering to his feet; her legs dangling down his back. She laughs and wraps her legs around him. 

“Ride, Daddy! Ride.”

“Not right now, LT. Go get your stuff.” He swings her down to the ground and watches her run back to their stuff. “I have to get my board.”

Nate follows him, though a sideways glance shows Brad that Nate’s still looking at Grace. “Did you just call her…?”

“Yeah. It was…well.” Brad sighs and grabs his board; a cursory glance showing him it survived the dump in the sand.

“Let me guess. Ray?”

“Mike Wynn, actually.” Brad walks back toward Grace, Nate in step with him. “And Poke.”

“Oh?”

It’s obvious he’s not getting out of telling the story. “Mike says I do whatever she says, and Poke says I look at her like she shits sunshine. Which they agreed was how I looked at you.”

“Oh.” 

Nate flushes and Brad shrugs. “Thus she became the small lieutenant. LT for short.”

“Oh.”

“It kind of stuck.”

Nate shoves his hands in his pockets and watches as Brad packs their stuff quickly and efficiently. He unzips his spring suit vest and tugs it over his head, leaving his chest bare for a moment before he pulls on a t-shirt. Grace keeps watching Nate, her gaze unrelenting, and Brad has to work not to smile. Nate looks profoundly uncomfortable.

“What brings you here, Nate?” He’s actually pretty proud the question comes out calm and even. 

“I was hoping we could talk.”

“You feeling up to a run?” He’s always tried hard not to be the ‘Iceman’ with Nate, but right now it’s the only defense he actually has.

“A…a run?”

“15K. I just have to drop Grace off at my mom’s.”

“I was kind of hoping to actually talk, not gasp my way through what I have to say.”

Brad knows he’s being unfair, but he’s not sure how much he cares, or can let himself care. “Civilians.” He swings their bag onto his shoulder then grabs his board. His other hand catches Grace’s wrist and he swings her up easily onto his back. “Well, unless you want to be treated to a chorus of ‘Daddy, why’, I still need to drop Grace at my folks’.”

“I’ll meet you there?”

“Sure.” Brad falls silent, trying not to look at Nate, trying not to catalogue the differences since the last time he saw him. He straps Grace into her car seat and turns around, catching his breath as Nate steps into his space.

“Maybe I could just ride with you? Come back later for my car?”

Brad manages a jerky nod, his hand clamped around the car door handle for support. “Sure.” His voice doesn’t break. “No problem.” He eases around Nate, his heart hammering in his chest as if he’s already done his run.

The drive to his parents’ house is quiet except for Grace telling Nate about surfing, a conversation consisting mostly of “Daddy. Grace. Water!” and “LT go surf!” Brad does his best not to look over at Nate, but he has to admit he fails miserably most of the time.

“She’s been hanging around Ray, I see.”

“Hmm?” Brad jerks his gaze to Nate and feels everything inside him tighten as he meets Nate’s eyes head-on. He hurries to look back at the road. “Did she say something inappropriate?”

“No. She just hasn’t stopped talking.”

“We put Ripped Fuel in her Cheerios.”

“That explains it then.” Nate shifts in his seat, the movement catching Brad’s eye again, and he can’t help but watch the play of Nate’s muscles in his legs. Brad fingers itch to touch him. 

“How’s work?” Brad sucks at small talk, but anything is better than the painful, awkward silence.

“Not bad. Have you been enjoying your leave?”

Brad’s eyebrow goes up and he tightens his grip on the steering wheel. “I discovered I had a daughter, found out about my next tour of duty and got kicked out of…” He snaps his mouth shut. “Yeah. Grace and I have been having a blast.” Nate’s fair skin flushes and he looks out the window. Brad rubs his jaw and blows out a breath. “Sorry. That was unnecessary.”

Nate nods, though whether in acceptance or forgiveness or something else altogether, Brad isn’t sure. Whatever it is, they spend the rest of the drive in silence, and even Grace stops talking.

“I’ll just be a minute.” Brad stops the car and moves around to unbuckle Grace and offload his board. His mom comes out on the porch but no further, and she has the decency to blush when Brad looks at her. “So, I guess I’ll be back.”

“Honey, I…”

“Later, Mom.” Brad stows the board and walks back to the car, sliding in and starting the engine again without looking at Nate. He drives back to the beach, pulling in alongside Nate’s car. “The beach is pretty quiet right now. Too early for most people and the waves are shitty, so…”

“This is fine.” Nate climbs out and starts walking, Brad’s longer legs making it easy for him to catch up. Nate settles on a log, worn white with age and the ocean, and stares out at the water. “I owe you an apology.”

“You don’t owe me anything, actually.”

“You were being honest with me, and I didn’t handle it well.” Nate’s voice is carefully measured, command training in passing on fucked up orders serving him well.

“Actually, given your response, you handled it just fine.”

“Brad.” Nate sighs and shakes his head, being Nate again. “It was just all a little overwhelming.”

“Yeah. No shit.”

“But…I’ve been trying really hard to figure out…We’re good at unfucking things, you and I. It’s what we did. What we do. And this…this is fucked.”

“Actually, it’s coming together. I leave in three days. Grace and I will drive up to Washington, and there’s housing ready for us on base. One of Poke’s wetback relatives is going to watch her during the day.”

“You’ll have night and weekend duty.”

“I imagine there will be one or two guys with wives and kids who can help me out.” Brad’s hands are flat on the wood, but his knuckles are white, fingers bent. He keeps his eyes straight ahead. “When I ship out, Mom and Dad will take her for six months. We’re trying to see if Julia’s folks will help out for six months, but if not, then Jess and Kate will each take her for three before we start the cycle all over again. It’s not ideal, obviously, but…” He shrugs. “Not much choice. I mean, Poke’s offered and so has Mike, but they’ve got families of their own.”

“RAND is doing an extended study with Boeing. They’ve got guys going to St. Louis and some are going to Renton.”

“Renton?” Nate doesn’t talk about his work – or anything – unless it matters or he’s fucking with Brad, and Brad’s pretty sure that, whatever this is, it’s not the latter.

“Renton, Washington. About an hour from Fort Lewis.”

Brad’s breath stops and he has to remind himself to start again. “Huh.”

“It’s a two year contract starting in three months.”

“Really.” Brad’s perfected the art of not letting anything reflect in his voice.

“I’ve got a project I’m working on right now.” Nate rubs his thighs slowly, drawing Brad’s eyes down to them. “It’s research. Some travel. Meetings once a month.” He turns his hand over, palm exposed. “Telecommuting the rest of the time.”

“Sounds like a sweet deal.”

Nate exhales roughly and then reaches out, fingers grazing Brad’s thigh. “Wouldn’t it be better for Grace to be settled in one place while you’re gone? Have a home?”

Brad swallows thickly and bites his lower lip hard enough to hurt. “Yeah. Well. I can’t offer her that.”

This time Nate’s exhale is shaky, and he curves one finger under the hem of Brad’s shorts. Licking his lips, he ducks his head and looks deliberately at Brad. “We could.”

Brad stands up and crosses his arms over his chest, his back tight. “You don’t owe me anything, Nate.”

“This isn’t about owing you. I told you I owed you an apology, and I did. Do. But I don’t owe you this.”

“So why are you doing it?” He turns around, surprised again to find Nate so close. 

“Because I’ve spent the past three weeks trying to live without you, and I don’t know how to do it.” He reaches out, but his hand stops just short of touching. “I keep trying to call you. I keep wanting to hear your voice, to talk to you.”

“No reason we can’t be friends.”

“Friends.” Nate’s voice catches. “Is that what you want? You want to be ‘friends’?”

“What do you want, Nate?” Brad shakes his head, barely managing to keep from taking a step back, to put distance between them. 

“I want to fix this. Fix us. I want to get things back to what they used to be.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not going to happen. Because Grace is what started this, and she’s not going anywhere.”

“I don’t mean…” Nate growls in frustration, and Brad clamps his jaw tightly in an effort to keep from reacting, though his whole body jerks with tension. “Jesus Christ, Colbert. You are the most ridiculously difficult person ever. Fuck.”

“Yeah, well, that’s not going to change either.”

“Fine.” Nate sighs and shakes his head. “I’ll put this in terms even an officer can understand, okay? I’m following you to Washington. I will be there the entire time you’re deployed. While you’re gone, I’m going to, in large part, take care of your daughter. If you don’t make it easy for me and let us just live together, I’m always going to be at your house or have Grace at my house so you have to come over. I’m going to try to learn how to not make so much noise during sex so that we won’t wake Grace up. I’m going to miss you like hell when you’re gone, and I’m going to worry that those Army fucks are going to get you killed.” Nate reaches out again and this time his fingers brush Brad’s chest. “And just in case that wasn’t clear, I love you, too.”

Brad nods, looking down at Nate’s hand as Nate carefully flattens it against Brad’s chest, palm over his sternum, thumb catching lightly against Brad’s nipple through the thin cotton. The nipple hardens and Brad has to close his eyes. “Don’t.”

“Don’t? Don’t love you?” Brad can hear the hint of amusement in Nate’s voice, and he opens his eyes to see Nate shaking his head. “Too late.” Nate meets Brad’s gaze evenly. “Years too late, Colbert.”

“Nate.”

“Brad.” Nate’s voice is almost mocking, and his smile makes Brad’s entire body shiver. “Are you going to argue with a superior officer?”

“No, sir. It’s just…”

“Hush.” Nate steps closer and leans in. Instinct and want bring Brad’s head down, his mouth on Nate’s. It’s slow and easy at first, remembering, and then Nate’s tongue tangles with Brad’s, amping it into hunger and desperation. Nate’s hands slide up Brad’s back and Brad’s settle on Nate’s ass, holding him hard and tight against him.

Nate moans throatily, and Brad forces himself to step back, breathing heavily and painfully hard. “That whole practicing how to be quiet thing? How’d you plan on doing that?” His voice is raspy with desire, and all he wants to do is step into Nate again.

“I…” Nate licks his lips, already slightly swollen. “I’m taking volunteers.”

“Recruiting, huh?” Brad manages to keep his tone light. “Guess you learned a thing or two from the Corps.”

“I don’t suppose you know anyone who might be interested?”

“I could ask around.” Brad shrugs. “You have certain qualifications?”

“They have to be you.”

“Huh.” Brad shakes his head sadly, moving in slowly, every step as careful as in a minefield. “That’s a pretty tough criterion.”

“I only want the best.” Nate’s eyes are burning bright. “Surely there’s someone you know.”

“I might know a guy.”

“Can we go to his place?”

“No.” Brad laughs raggedly. “I’m living with my sister.”

“Jesus. It’s like high school.” Nate smiles and steps into Brad, kissing him lightly. “Come to my place with me? I promise never to kick you out again.”

“You kept your place here?”

“Yeah. You’re here.” Nate kisses him again, much less lightly. “I want to be alone with you. In private.”

“You have plans for me, huh?”

“One way to find out.”

“I’ll follow you.”

Nate shakes his head. “Let me drive? I don’t think I can handle it if you don’t show up.”

“You’re just going to have to trust me.” Brad’s thumb traces Nate’s jaw. “I’ve never steered you wrong before, have I?”

“Well, there was that one time in Iraq. What did Captain Schwetje say? Colbert took us down the wrong road?”

“Oh, you didn’t just…” Brad’s eyes narrow as Nate spins on his heel and takes off at a run. “Oh, that’s it, Fick. You’re going down.”

“Promises, Colbert,” Nate calls over his shoulder. “Empty promises.”

Brad passes Nate just before they hit the parking lot, and he’s behind the wheel of his car by the time Nate’s unlocking his door. “Pussy civilian, Fick.”

“You keep thinking that, Colbert. Right up until I kick your ass.”

“You have to catch it first!”

**

Nate’s house is the same one he shared with VJ when they first arrived at Pendleton, and normally he leases it to the new command staff as they come and go, but lately he’s kept it just for himself when he’s in town or for visiting friends. Brad’s heard plenty of people ask Nate why he keeps it, and Nate always has a perfectly reasonable and valid answer that never sounds like ‘Brad’s apartment is too close to the base, and we’re more likely to get caught’, even though Brad’s sure that’s the real answer. He has to admit he’s relieved to know Nate’s kept the place, another sign that Nate’s telling him the truth, that he’s kept his promise never to lie.

He beats Nate by a good five minutes and waits outside the door. Nate catches up, keys jangling in his hand. “How do you get that car to go that fast?”

Brad smiles wolfishly. “A few non-factory modifications.”

Nate slots the key in the lock, crowding close to Brad. Brad doesn’t move, inhaling the warm scent of Nate’s body. “C’mon in.”

The apartment smells stale, weeks of being closed up heavy in the air. Nate shuts the door behind them and moves into Brad without hesitation, one hand at the base of Brad’s neck and pulling him down into a kiss.

“Thought we were talking.”

“I thought we were agreed.” Nate bites Brad’s lower lip, sucking gently. “We move to Washington. I put my good friend, Brad, and his little girl up at my place since I’m going to be watching her while you’re at work and deployed.”

“You’ve just got this all figured out, don’t you?”

Nate’s thumb strokes Brad’s jaw. “Did you mean what you said?”

“You know I did.”

“Then what are we fighting about?”

“Are we fighting?” Brad’s voice is soft as he turns his head, catching Nate’s thumb between his teeth.

“Fuck.” Nate groans and pushes Brad back, guiding him toward the hall. “Missed you so fucking much. Not just the sex. Everything.”

“Quit being such a fucking girl, Fick,” Brad half gasps, half laughs. Nate shoves him harder until Brad sprawls against the bed, catching himself and sitting on the edge of the mattress. He watches Nate carefully, chest constricting as Nate kneels down in front of him between Brad’s spread legs.

Nate’s fingers skate from Brad’s ankles, darkly tanned and scarred with fine, faded lines, up his skins. Neither of them speaks and Nate’s hands stroke the skin, his expression intent. Brad shudders and curls his hands around the edge of the mattress as Nate’s touch slides higher. His fingers trace the hem of Brad’s trunks again and then he looks up and meets Brad’s gaze. “Up.”

“What?” Brad knows he sounds punch drunk and stupid, but every single ounce of blood is headed straight for his dick, fighting for space. Conversation and cognitive thought aren’t his best subjects. Besides, as far as directions go, his body has already complied. 

“Stand up.”

A lifetime of following orders, even ones contradictory to the current situation, is the only thing that gets Brad to his feet, his muscles protesting until Nate’s hands ease beneath Brad’s waistband and guide his board shorts down. Breath shudders out of Brad’s chest, hot and almost painful, as Nate strips them off of him and tosses them away before bringing his fingers up to the newly exposed skin. It’s tanned, though not as darkly, and the flush of arousal shows plainly against Nate’s lips as he mouths a hot kiss on Brad’s thigh.

“Fuck, Nate.” Brad’s head falls back and he reaches out to grip Nate’s shoulder to steady himself. He fights to catch his breath as Nate keeps it up, licking and sucking at Brad’s skin. Brad’s dick stands straight up, pre-come staining his stomach, and he has to dig his fingers into the groove of Nate’s shoulder blades to remain standing.

Nate’s tongue slides against Brad’s balls and Brad sways, biting his lower lip to keep from making any noise. Nate nuzzles Brad, teeth catching just the smallest bit of sensitive skin at the base of Brad’s balls, and Brad groans, no amount of biting keeping him quiet.

“Nate.” It’s a plea, close to begging, but Nate doesn’t seem to care. He continues with his mouth wreaking havoc on Brad’s senses until Brad reaches down, his fingers tight in Nate’s hair, pulling roughly. Nate knocks Brad’s hand away and moves in, wrapping his mouth around the head of Brad’s cock, coating it with hot, slick spit. Brad groans roughly and grabs the back of Nate’s head with both hands. “Nate. Oh, fuck.”

Nate’s mouth tightens as it slides down Brad’s shaft, sucking hotly, his tongue pressed firmly against the underside. Brad manages to wait until he’s fully seated deep in Nate’s throat to start moving, unable to hold back longer than that before he starts fucking Nate’s parted lips. Nate moans around him, swallowing thickly, mouth and throat constricting. Brad whimpers and thrusts harder, fingers digging into Nate’s scalp. He has to watch, has to see himself disappearing into Nate’s swollen mouth, has to watch as Nate opens his eyes and that stark, clear green shocks his system. Brad comes hard, thrusting and spasming in Nate’s throat.

Nate’s lips tighten even more and he grasps Brad’s hips, stilling him as Nate sucks him dry, hard and ruthless until Brad’s knees buckle and only Nate’s hands on his hips and his own on Nate’s head keep him from going down hard. Easing back, Nate exhales shakily, sucking in a deep breath of air. Brad sinks down onto the bed then falls back, aftershocks coursing through him. Nate doesn’t take long to follow him up, shedding his clothes and settling on top of Brad.

Nate’s dick digs into Brad’s hip, his knees on either side of one of Brad’s legs as he thrusts against him with the same determination he uses to kiss Brad, tongue fucking Brad’s mouth with the taste of his own come. Brad slides his hand over Nate’s ass, pulling him harder into him and Nate moans into Brad’s mouth.

Nate shudders against him, slick wet painting Brad’s skin. Nate kisses Brad again, desperate this time, and Brad rolls them over, straddling Nate. Nate’s wide-eyed and Brad knows the last vestiges of his control are slipping. Every muscle and bone in his body feels like rubber in the desert, but he leans forward and braces himself over Nate, snagging supplies from the nightstand with a trembling hand.

“Inside me.” It’s half a question and half a command. Nate’s hips roll up hard in response, his dick flushed and hard, the slit thick with pre-come. Brad opens the condom and lube, slicking Nate up as quickly as he can. Nate makes hot, mewling sounds as Brad strokes Nate’s cock then reaches back, coating his own opening before sinking down onto Nate as hard and quick as he can stand.

Nate’s fingers rake down Brad’s taut thighs and Brad hisses, red marks already rising on his skin. Nate feels huge inside him, filling him. Brad can’t breathe, can’t feel anything but the pulse of Nate’s cock throbbing deep inside him. “More.” Nate’s voice is tight, his teeth gritted together. “Brad. Fuck. More. Please.”

Brad digs his knees in and grabs Nate’s hands, threading his long fingers with Nate’s for leverage as he starts moving. Nate’s fingers curl tight on his, his hips thrusting up to meet every downward stroke of Brad’s body. Brad rides him with no restraint, only the need to have as much as Nate can give him, as much force as they can manage, as much depth as he can take.

“So…Jesus, Brad. So fucking tight.” Nate’s body is beaded with sweat, arching up into Brad, wild and erratic. Nate’s grip tightens even further and Brad groans encouragement until Nate wrenches his hands free and grabs Brad’s hips, driving him down, holding Brad flush against his body and jerking upward until the last desperate spasm of his orgasm.

Brad sits there, head thrown back in an attempt to get some air not laden with the scent of sex and Nate, to ease his overladen senses. His chest rises and falls rapidly as Nate reaches up, his fingers tracing a line down Brad’s stomach. He lets his fingers slide down, curving his hand around Brad’s half-hard cock. Brad gasps a laugh and moves Nate’s hand away. “You trying to kill me, Fick?”

“It would make the whole ‘happily ever after’ pretty much a shoo-in.”

“Point.” Brad eases off of Nate and flops to the bed, watching Nate as he rolls away, disposing of the condom and cleaning himself up. He leaves the bathroom door open, his eyes constantly darting in Brad’s direction. “I’m not going anywhere, Nate.”

Nate flushes and Brad knows he scored a direct hit. “You have to admit,” Nate states wryly, “it would be the perfect revenge.”

“Yeah, if I was some passive-aggressive fuckwad.” Brad turns on his side, propping his head on his hand. “Which I’m not.”

“I’ll let the fuckwad slide, but there was some passive aggressive behavior.” Nate comes back to the bed and sits on the edge of it, facing Brad, his fingers grazing Brad’s hip. “On both sides.”

Brad runs his fingers over the back of Nate’s hand. “This is really what you want, Nate?”

“Yes.” Nate turns his hand, letting Brad stroke the inside of his palm. “You?”

“Other than the fact that asking you to wait for me seems grossly unfair…”

“You haven’t asked. I’ve offered,” Nate reminds him. “So that argument’s completely invalid.”

“Grace…”

“Is going to need a completely new nickname, because there’s no way I’m taking orders from a mere lieutenant.”

“Nate…”

“I’ll love her like she’s my own, Brad. I’ve seen it done, so I know it’s possible. And if I get lost, I’ll call your mom and she can give me the number to some awesome military schools.”

Brad smiles despite the remaining tightness in his chest. “It’s not a joke.”

“And I’ll never treat her that way. She’s yours.” Nate shrugs as if that explains everything and maybe it does. “You told me once that you trusted me, Brad.”

“I trust you with my life.” Brad blows out a breath. “And with my daughter’s.”

**

EPILOGUE

Brad disembarks and slings his bag over his shoulder. He scans the area, watching people break away from the gathered mass by the hangar in ones and twos, separating loved ones from the pack of fatigues exiting the plane onto the tarmac. He’s halfway to the buses, his stomach in knots, when the group seems to shift and he’s confronted with seventeen Marines in full dress blues who, with the snap of a barked command worth of Sergeant Major Sixta, raise their swords to the middle of their chests.

Brad nearly chokes, on a laugh or a sob he’s not sure. He scans the faces of all his friends, minus the few still currently in the shit, until he spies the one he’s looking for. He didn’t join the Corps for hot guys in uniform. You don’t make it in the Marines, much less recon, if you’re just there to jack your dick during full dress events. Nonetheless, Nate in his dress blues takes Brad’s breath away, but not nearly as much as the sight of Grace, her blonde hair no longer wispy, dressed in matching blue, peeking out from beside the blood red stripe that runs down the length of Nate’s leg. He’s never really paid attention to the stories of guys whose kids were born right before or during their tours of duty, but he gets it now, understands why they talk about a kid they’ve never met. It’s this moment, this fear. At least with a baby, no one else will think much of them crying. 

He stops and drops his bag, snapping to attention and giving the gathered men a salute in return. Another sharp cry and they fall out, swords sheathed and swarming Brad. There are hugs and pats on the back and ass, and then finally - finally - there is Nate standing in front of him. “Welcome home, Sergeant.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“I’m actually not responsible for the welcoming party. You can blame Corporal Person for that.”

“Blame, homes?” Ray slaps Nate on the back. “’Thank’, you mean.”

“Whatever lets you sleep at night, Ray.” Brad squats down to look at Grace. There are still hints of the two-year-old he left, though the very visible difference of two years hits Brad like a hammer to the chest. “Hey, LT.”

She regards him with wide, blue eyes, head tilted as she studies him. There have been Skype calls hacked in through the DoD lines, but he knows, looking at her, that they’re a shitty substitute for the real thing. “Uncle Nate won’t take me surfing.”

Brad glances up at Nate and then back at Grace, a small smile curving his lips. “That’s because Nate can barely stand on a board when it’s lying on the sand, much less when it’s on the water.”

“Hey,” Nate protests softly.

“Don’t even pretend that’s not the truth.” Brad keeps looking at Grace. “I’ll take you surfing. Really teach you this time.”

She nods slowly then looks up at Nate, a question in her eyes. Nate shakes his head slightly and her eyes narrow as she turns them on Brad. “When are you going away again?”

“Grace,” Nate groans.

“Not for a while.” Brad reaches out and brushes her hair back. “Another month here, and then we’ll go back down by Grandma and Grandpa, okay? Surf all the time.”

“Uncle Nate says I have to go to school.”

“Well, yeah. There is that. But school’s not so bad.” He grabs her by the hands and swings up her onto his shoulders as Nate grabs his bag.

“There’s a party,” Nate informs him. “They said you needed to be around real men again instead of Army guys.”

“That’s what they called them?”

“That’s what they called them around Grace.” Nate laughs and crowds in closer in the bustle of the group. “Your folks are going to be there and they’ve offered to take Grace tonight if you want.”

“Are they here now?”

“Yeah. They got into town this morning.”

“Maybe they could take her now while I go home and shower half the Iraqi desert off of me, and she can come home tonight.”

“Fair enough.” Nate smiles up at him, his uniform sharp and perfect next to Brad’s drab and rumpled fatigues. “You sure you remember how to work a shower?”

“Been a while.” Brad brushes his knuckle against Nate’s hand. “Might need a refresher course.”

“Daddy! Daddy! There’s Grandma and Grandpa. Uncle Nate! Look!” Grace bounces on Brad’s shoulders, and he clamps both hands on her ankles. She starts waving and squirming until Brad sets her down to run across the lot.

Nate leans in, lowering his voice. “I want to touch you. Taste you.”

“I taste like I smell.” Brad smirks and wrinkles his nose. “You might want to wait on that one.”

“I really don’t care.”

“Yeah, but last time you tasted and smelled just as bad.” Brad wants to lean into Nate. “Desperation forgives a lot of things.”

“If you don’t think I’m desperate, you don’t know me very well.” Nate laughs. “And if you’re not, then I’m going to have to wonder if you found yourself some Army bitch or something.”

“Fuck you very much, sir.” Brad smiles at Nate, leaning in just enough to breathe him in, to get danger close and feel like he’s going to lose control. Instead he breaks into a jog, hugging both of his parents close. Grace is torn between her grandparents and the novelty of Brad, but the promise of ice cream wins out and it’s just a couple of promises to show up at the party until he and Nate are on the road. “Should have brought the bike. I’d get us home faster.”

“We’re not going home.” Nate drives in the opposite direction of their house, pulling into the lot of the Hotel Murano, the closest thing to five star luxury in Tacoma. “I can’t wait that long. Hell, you’re lucky I’m waiting until we get inside rather than fucking you alongside Interstate Five.”

Brad watches him hungrily, eyes feasting on Nate as he traces the lines of his body with his gaze. “Have to decide what to do first.” 

“No,” Nate laughs. “After being in the car with you, you definitely need to shower first.” He parks and hands Brad a card key. “Room 567. I’ll be right up.”

“Come up with me.” Brad slides his hand along Nate’s thigh, the touch lighting fires in Brad’s own body. “I promise not to rip your uniform.”

“Go,” Nate’s voice is husky. “There’s no way I’ll make it through an elevator ride without touching you.”

“Pussy civilian. Don’t let the dress blues fool you.” His hand slides higher and he groans at the hardness of Nate’s dick beneath the fabric of his trousers. 

“Get…” Nate has to swallow and catch his breath as Brad squeezes. “Get half the desert rinsed off, Colbert. Then we’ll talk.”

“Just admit that you were lying about caring.”

“You are still so fucking infuriating.” Nate growls, surging forward and finding Brad’s mouth with his own. Brad’s low moan hurts and he half-climbs into Nate’s lap. Nate groans and cups Brad’s ass, pulling him closer. “Brad. Fuck.”

“Don’t make me wait, Fick. Been waiting too fucking long.” Brad bends his head, stubble grazing Nate’s neck as he sucks just above Nate’s high collar.

“Br-Brad.”

Brad’s teeth catch Nate’s earlobe and he sucks at it slowly. “Come inside, Nate. Come with me.”

Nate growls and shoves Brad back onto the passenger seat, kissing him hard, tongue fucking Brad’s mouth. “Inside, Colbert. Now.”

Brad eases away, opening his door and slipping out of the car. Nate follows, keeping a respectable distance between them. Brad crowds into an elevator, smiling thinly as people make comments to both himself and Nate about their service. Nate, ever the diplomat, acts as if stopping by a hotel way out of a Captain’s salary is an everyday occurrence, acting like he doesn’t have a hard-on two years in the making.

Brad gets out on the fifth floor, offering quiet apologies for the dust and the musty smell. Nate is already down the hall by the time the doors close, and Brad starts counting seconds along with room numbers, tossing Nate the card key. They move inside, shutting the door behind them, and then Brad can’t move, overwhelmed by the feel of Nate fully against him. Finally.

Nate reaches up and brushes his thumb over Brad’s lower lip. “Grace was so excited to see you.”

“I’m excited for it to be commonplace instead of a big deal.”

“I was excited to see you.”

Brad runs a finger over Nate’s erection. “Were?”

“Am.” Nate closes his eyes and rests his forehead against Brad’s chest. “I missed you.”

Brad’s chest tightens hard and he tugs Nate closer, wrapping his arms around him. Want is burning a hole inside him, but this fills something else even stronger. “Missed you, too.”

Nate pulls away and catches Brad’s hand, guiding him into the room. Brad doesn’t see any of the amenities, doesn’t look away from Nate’s warm smile as he leans in and nuzzles Brad’s mouth. “Welcome home.”


End file.
